FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 


REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED   BY  HIM   TO 


THE   LIBRARY  OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


DM*.    ^Cg 

Section 


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§Docm£  of  £orroto  anb  Comfort. 


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POExMS  OF   RELIGIOUS   St 
COMFORT,   COUNSEL,   At 
ASPIRATION 


SELECTED   BY   F.  J.   CHILD 


'Tis  Life  whereof  our  nerves  are  bcakt, 
Oh  life,  xot  death,  for  which  \\k  iwxt  ; 
More  Life,  axd  fuller,  that  I  want. 


I  AM  COME  THAT  THEY  MIGHT  HAVE  LIFE,  AXD  THAT 
THEY  MIGHT  HAVE  IT  MORE  ABUXDAXTLY 


7  im 


NEW   YORK 

PUBLISHED    BY    IIURD    AND    HOUGHTON 

BOSTON:   E.   P.   DUTTOX   AM)   COMPANY 

18G6 


Pray  for  the  health  of  all  that  are  diseased, 
Confession  unto  all  that  are  convicted, 

And  patience  unto  all  that  are  displeased, 
And  comfort  unto  all  that  are  afflicted, 

And  mercy  unto  all  that  have  offended, 

And  grace  to  all,  that  all  may  be  amended ! 


This  little  volume  contains  about  thirty  more 
pieces  than  one  published  with  the  same  title 
three  years  ago.  The  additions  are  mainly  from 
the  Rev.  T.  V.  Fosbery's  "Hymns  and  Poems 
for  the  Sick  and  Suffering,"  —  an  excellent  col- 
lection, which  may  suit  the  case  of  many  pious 
and  trustful  persons  better  than  this. 

It  is  necessary  to  say  that  the  titles  given  to 
some  of  the  pieces  are  not  those  of  the  authors, 
and  that,  having  a  practical  object  in  view,  I  have 
often  taken  only  so  much  of  a  poem  as  answered 
my  purpose.  But  in  no  instance  have  the  words 
of  an  author  been  altered,  though  there  are 
phrases  here  and  there  which  I  do  not  approve. 

All  the  poems  by  American  authors,  except- 
ing one  anonymous  piece,  are  here  printed  with 
the  express  permission  of  the  lawful  proprietors. 
Thanks  are  especially  due  to  Messrs.  Ticknor  and 
Fields  for  their  liberality  in  this  respect. 

F.  J.  C 

Christmas,  1865. 


For  one  whose  life  lay  bound,  long  years, 
In  cold  obstruction  thrilled  with  fears, 
Whose  daily  bread  was  salt  with  tears : 

Whom  the  all-pleasant  light  of  day 
Woke  to  a  scarce-forgot  dismay, 
Whose  misery  sleep  might  not  allay : 

Whose  soul  seemed,  by  an  awful  lot, 

Fixed  in  a  void  but  ghastly  spot, 

Where  hope  came  not,  wThere  God  was  not : 

Yet  now.  through  grace,  essays  to  trust 

God  is,  is  merciful  as  just, 

And  souls  outlive  all  pangs  of  dust. 


For  friends,  ah.  many  friends !  who  find 
From  ills  of  body,  heart,  or  mind 
No  ease,  except  to  be  resigned : 


Who,  in  the  countless  paths  of  pain, 
Weeping,  sow  seeds  of  precious  grain,  — 
One  day  to  bring  back  sheaves  again ! 


For  all,  who,  battling  through  this  life 
In  anguish  steeped,  with  evil  rife, 
Faint  with  the  unremitting  strife  : 

Dear,  for  the  sorrows  they  endure, 
And  dear  to  pitying  God  most  sure, 
Who  makes  his  own  by  all  means  pure. 


t 


P0E1IS  OF  SORROW  AND  (MFORT. 


EVIL. 


Evil,  every  living  hour, 

Holds  us  in  its  wilful  hand, 
Save  as  Thou,  essential  Power, 

Mayst  be  gracious  to  withstand : 
Pain  within  the  subtle  flesh, 

Heavy  lids  that  cannot  close, 
Hearts  that  hope  will  not  refresh,  — 

Hand  of  Healing  !  interpose. 

Tyranny's  strong  breath  is  tainting 

Nature's  sweet  and  vivid  air ; 
Nations  silentlv  are  fainting, 

Or  upgather  in  despair  : 
Not  to  those  distracted  wills 

Trust  the  judgment  of  their  woes  ; 
'While  the  cup  of  anguish  fills, 

Arm  of  Justice  !  interpose. 


Evil. 

Pleasures  night  and  day  are  hovering 

Kound  their  prey  of  weary  hours, 
Weakness  and  unrest  discovering 

In  the  best  of  human  powers : 
Ere  the  fond  delusions  tire, 

Ere  envenomed  passion  grows 
From  the  root  of  vain  desire,  — 

Mind  of  Wisdom  !  interpose. 

Now  no  more  in  tuneful  motion 

Life  with  love  and  duty  glides ; 
Reason's  meteor-lighted  ocean 

Bears  us  down  its  mazy  tides  ; 
Head  is  clear  and  hand  is  strong, 

But  our  heart  no  haven  knows  ; 
Sun  of  Truth  !  the  night  is  long,  — 

Let  Thy  radiance  interpose  ! 


THE   TWO  VOICES. 

A  still  small  voice  spake  unto  me  : 
"  Thou  art  so  full  of  misery, 
Were  it  not  better  not  to  be  ?  " 

Then  to  the  still  small  voice  I  said, 
"  Let  me  not  cast  in  endless  shade 
What  is  so  wonderfully  made." 

To  which  the  voice  did  urge  reply : 

"  To-day  I  saw  the  dragon-fly 

Come  from  the  wells  where  he  did  lie. 

"  An  inner  impulse  rent  the  veil 
Of  his  old  husk :  from  head  to  tail 
Came  out  clear  plates  of  sapphire  mail. 

"  He  dried  his  wings :  like  gauze  they  grew 
Through  crofts  and  pastures  wet  with  dew 
A  living  flash  of  light  he  flew." 


8  Tlie  Two  Voices. 

I  said,  "  When  first  the  world  began, 

-     Young  Nature  through  five  cycles  ran, 

And  in  the  sixth  she  moulded  man. 

"  She  gave  him  mind,  the  lordliest 
Proportion,  and,  above  the  rest, 
Dominion  in  the  head  and  breast." 

Thereto  the  silent  voice  replied, 

"  Self-blinded  are  you  by  your  pride : 

Look  up  through  night :  the  world  is  wide. 

"  This  truth  within  thy  mind  rehearse, 

That  in  a  boundless  universe 

Is  boundless  better,  boundless  worse. 

"  Think  you  this  mould  of  hopes  and  fears 
Could  find  no  statelier  than  his  peers 
In  yonder  hundred  million  spheres  ?  " 

It  spake,  moreover,  in  my  mind : 

"  Though  thou  wert  scattered  to  the  wind, 

Yet  is  there  plenty  of  the  kind." 

Then  did  my  response  clearer  fall : 
"  No  compound  of  this  earthly  ball 
Is  like  another,  all  in  all." 


Hie  Two  Voices.  8 

To  which  he  answered  scoffingly, 
u  Good  soul !  suppose  I  grant  it  thee, 
Who  '11  weep  for  thy  deficiency  ? 

"  Or  will  one  beam  be  less  intense, 

When  thy  peculiar  difference 

Is  cancelled  in  the  world  of  sense  ?  " 

I  would  have  said,  "  Thou  canst  not  know," 
But  my  full  heart,  that  worked  below, 
Rained  through  my  sight  its  overflow. 

Again  the  voice  spake  unto  me : 
4*  Thou  art  so  steeped  in  misery, 
Surely  't  were  better  not  to  be. 

M  Thine  anguish  will  not  let  thee  sleep, 

Nor  any  train  of  reason  keep  : 

Thou  canst  not  think,  but  thou  wilt  weep." 

I  said,  "  The  years  with  change  advance  : 
If  I  make  dark  my  countenance, 
I  shut  my  life  from  happier  chance. 

"  Some  turn  this  sickness  yet  might  take, 
Even  vet."     But  he  :  "  What  dru<j  can  make 
A  withered  palsy  cease  to  shake  ?  n 


10  The  Two  Voices. 

I  wept,  "  Though  I  should  die,  I  know 
That  all  about  the  thorn  will  blow 
In  tufts  of  rosy-tinted  snow  ; 

"  And  men,  through  novel  spheres  of  thought 
Still  moving  after  truth  long  sought, 
Will  learn  new  things  when  I  am  not." 

"  Yet,"  said  the  secret  voice,  "  some  time, 
Sooner  or  later,  will  gray  prime 
Make  thy  grass  hoar  with  early  rime. 

"  Not  less  swift  souls  that  yearn  for  light, 

Eapt  after  heaven's  starry  flight, 

Would  sweep  the  tracts  of  day  and  night. 

"  Not  less  the  bee  would  range  her  cells, 
The  furzy  prickle  fire  the  dells, 
The  foxglove  cluster  dappled  bells." 

I  said  that  "  all  the  years  invent ; 
Each  month  is  various  to  present 
The  world  with  some  development. 

"  Were  this  not  well,  to  bide  mine  hour, 
Though  watching  from  a  ruined  tower 
How  grows  the  day  of  human  power  ?  " 


The  Two  Voices.  11 

"  The  highest-mounted  mind,"  he  said, 
"  Still  sees  the  sacred  morning  spread 
The  silent  summit  overhead. 

;i  Will  thirty  seasons  render  plain 
Those  lonely  lights  that  still  remain, 
Just  breaking  over  land  and  main  ? 

"  Or  make  that  morn,  from  his  cold  crown 
And  crystal  silence  creeping  clown, 
Flood  with  full  daylight  glebe  and  town  ? 

"  Forerun  thy  peers,  thy  time,  and  let 

Thy  feet,  millenniums  hence,  be  set 

In  midst  of  knowledge  dreamed  not  yet : 

"  Thou  hast  not  gained  a  real  height, 
Nor  art  thou  nearer  to  the  light, 
Because  the  scale  is  infinite. 

"  'T  were  better  not  to  breathe  or-speak 
Than  cry  for  strength,  remaining  weak, 
And  seem  to  find,  but  still  to  seek. 

••  Moreover,  but  to  seem  to  find 

Asks  what  thou  lackest,  thought  resigned, 

A  healthy  frame,  a  quiet  mind." 


12  The  Two  Voices. 

I  said,  "  When  I  am  gone  away, 
'  He  dared  not  tarry,'  men  will  say, 
Doing  dishonor  to  my  clay." 

"  This  is  more  vile,"  he  made  reply, 

"  To  breathe  and  loathe,  to  live  and  sigh, 

Than  once  from  dread  of  pain  to  die. 

"  Sick  art  thou,  —  a  divided  will 
Still  heaping  on  the  fear  of  ill 
The  fear  of  men,  a  coward  still. 

"  Do  men  love  thee  ?     Art  thou  so  bound 
To  men,  that  how  thy  name  may  sound 
Will  vex  thee  lying  under  ground  ? 

"  The  memory  of  the  withered  leaf 
In  endless  time  is  scarce  more  brief 
Than  of  the  garnered  autumn-sheaf. 

"  Go,  vexed  spirit,  sleep  in  trust ; 
The  right  ear,  that  is  filled  with  dust, 
Hears  little  of  the  false  or  just." 

"  Hard  task,  to  pluck  resolve,"  I  cried, 
"  From  emptiness  and  the  waste  wide 
Of  that  abyss,  or  scornful  pride ! 


The  Two  Voices.  13 

u  Nay,  —  rather  yet  that  I  could  raise 
One  hope  that  warmed  me  in  the  days 
While  still  I  yearned  for  human  praise. 

u  When,  wide  in  soul  and  bold  of  tongue, 
Among  the  tents  I  paused  and  sung, 
The  distant  battle  flashed  and  rung. 

;;  I  sung  the  joyful  paean  clear. 
And,  sitting,  burnished  without  fear 
The  brand,  the  buckler,  and  the  spear,  — 

<;  Waiting  to  strive  a  happy  strife, 
To  war  with  falsehood  to  the  knife, 
And  not  to  lose  the  good  of  life,  — 

u  Some  hidden  principle  to  move, 

To  put  together,  part  and  prove, 

And  mete  the  bounds  of  hate  and  love,  — 

"  As  far  as  might  be,  to  carve  out 
Free  space  for  every  human  doubt, 
That  the  whole  mind  might  orb  about,  — 

"  To  search  through  all  I  felt  and  saw, 
The  springs  of  life,  the  depths  of  awe, 
And  reach  the  law  within  the  law : 


14  The  Two  Voices. 

"  At  least,  not  rotting  like  a  weed, 
But  having  sown  some  generous  seed, 
Fruitful  of  further  thought  and  deed, 

"  To  pass,  when  Life  her  light  withdraws, 
Not  void  of  righteous  self-applause, 
Nor  in  a  merely  selfish  cause,  — 

fc  In  some  good  cause,  not  in  mine  own, 
To  perish,  wept  for,  honored,  known, 
And  like  a  warrior  overthrown  ; 

"  Whose  eyes  are  dim  with  glorious  tears, 
When,  soiled  with  noble  dust,  he  hears 
His  country's  war-song  thrill  his  ears : 

"  Then  dying  of  a  mortal  stroke, 
What  time  the  foeman's  line  is  broke, 
And  all  the  war  is  rolled  in  smoke." 

"  Yea ! "  said  the  voice,  "  thy  dream  was  good, 
While  thou  abodest  in  the  bud : 
It  was  the  stirring  of  the  blood. 

"  If  Nature  put  not  forth  her  power 
About  the  opening  of  the  flower, 
Who  is  it  that  could  live  an  hour  ? 


The  Two  Voices.  15 

u  Then  comes  the  check,  the  change,  the  fall : 
Pain  rises  up,  old  pleasures  pall: 
There  is  one  remedy  for  all. 

tt  Yet  hadst  thou,  through  enduring  pain, 
Linked  month  to  month  with  such  a  chain 
Of  knitted  purport,  all  were  vain. 

*•  Thou  hadst  not  between  death  and  birth 
Dissolved  the  riddle  of  the  earth  : 
So  were  thy  labor  little  worth. 

u  That  men  with  knowledge  merely  played 
I  told  thee,  —  hardly  nigher  made, 
Though  scaling  slow  from  grade  to  grade ; 

••  Much  less  this  dreamer,  deaf  and  blind, 
Named  man,  may  hope  some  truth  to  find 
That  bears  relation  to  the  mind. 

"  For  every  worm  beneath  the  moon 
Draws  different  threads,  and  late  and  soon 
Spins,  toiling  out  his  own  cocoon. 

-  Cry.  faint  not:  —  either  Truth  is  born 
Beyond  the  polar  gleam  forlorn, 
Or  in  the  gateways  of  the  morn. 


16  The  Two  Voices. 

"  Cry,  faint  not,  climb  :  —  the  summits  slope 
Beyond  the  furthest  flights  of  hope, 
Wrapt  in  dense  cloud  from  base  to  cope. 

"  Sometimes  a  little  corner  shines, 

As  over  rainy  mist  inclines 

A  gleaming  crag  .with  belts  of  pines. 

"  I  will  go  forward,  sayest  thou, 
I  shall  not  fail  to  find  her  now. 
Look  up,  the  fold  is  on  her  brow. 

"  If  straight  thy  track,  or  if  oblique, 

Thou  know'st  not.     Shadows  thou  dost  strike, 

Embracing  cloud,  Ixion-like  ; 

"  And  owning  but  a  little  more 
Than  beasts,  abidest  lame  and  poor, 
Calling  thyself  a  little  lower 

"  Than  angels.     Cease  to  wail  and  brawl ! 
Why  inch  by  inch  to  darkness  crawl  ? 
There  is  one  remedy  for  all." 

"  O  dull,  one-sided  voice,"  said  I, 
"  Wilt  thou  make  everything  a  lie, 
To  flatter  me  that  I  may  die  ? 


Tht  Tin,  Voi  17 

u  I  know  that  age  to  age  succeeds, 
Blowing  a  noise  of  tongues  and  deeds, 
A  dust  of  systems  and  of  creeds. 

u  i  cannot  hide  that  some  have  striven. 

Achieving  calm,  to  whom  was  given 

The  joy  that  mixes  man  with  Heaven  : 

••  Who,  rowing  hard  against  the  stream, 
S  iw  distant  gates  of  Eden  gleam, 

And  did  not  dream  it  was  a  dream  ; 

*  But  heard,  by  secret  transport  led, 
Kven  in  the  charnels  of  the  dead. 
The  murmur  of  the  fountain-head, — 

u  Which  did  accomplish  their  desire, 
Bore  and  forbore,  and  did  not  tire, 
Like  Stephen,  an  imquenched  fire. 

H  lie  heeded  not  reviling  tones. 

Nor  sold  his  heart  to  idle  moans. 

Though  cursed  and  scorned,  and  bruised  with 

stones  : 

k-  But  looking  upward,  full  of  grace, 
II.'  prayed,  and  from  a  happy  place 
's  rfory  ^mote  him  on  the  fa* 


18  The  Tico  Voices. 

The  sullen  answer  slid  betwixt : 

u  Not  that  the  grounds  of  hope  were  fixed, 

The  elements  were  kindlier  mixed." 

I  said,  "  I  toil  beneath  the  curse, 
But,  knowing  not  the  universe, 
I  fear  to  slide  from  bad  to  worse : 

"  And  that,  in  seeking  to  undo 
One  riddle,  and  to  find  the  true, 
I  knit  a  hundred  others  new  : 

"  Or  that  this  anguish  fleeting  hence, 
Unmanacled  from  bonds  of  sense, 
Be  fixed  and  frozen  to  permanence  : 

"  For  I  go,  weak  from  suffering  here ; 
Naked  I  go,  and  void  of  cheer : 
What  is  it  that  I  may  not  fear  ? " 

u  Consider  well/'  the  voice  replied, 

"  His  face  that  two  hours  since  hath  died ; 

"Wilt  thou  find  passion,  pain,  or  pride  ? 

"  Will  he  obey  when  one  commands  ? 
Or  answer  should  one  press  his  hands  ? 
He  answers  not,  nor  understands. 


The  Two  Voices.  19 

u  His  palms  are  folded  on  his  breast : 
There  is  no  other  thing  expressed 
But  long  disquiet  merged  in  rest. 

u  His  lips  are  very  mild  and  meek : 
Though  one  should  smite  him  on  the  cheek, 
And  on  the  mouth,  he  will  not  speak. 

u  I  lis  little  daughter,  whose  sweet  face 
He  kissed,  taking  his  last  embrace, 
Becomes  dishonor  to  her  race,  — 

k*  His  sons  grow  up  that  bear  his  name. 
Some  grow  to  honor,  some  to  shame, — 
But  he  is  chill  to  praise  or  blame. 

u  He  will  not  hear  the  north-wind  rave, 
Nor,  moaning,  household  shelter  crave 
From  winter  rains  that  beat  his  grave. 

••  High  up  the  vapors  fold  and  swim  : 
About  him  broods  the  twilight  dim : 
The  place  he  knew  forgetteth  him.*' 

k-  If  all  be  dark,  vague  voice."  I  said, 

••  These  things  are  wrapt  in  doubt  and  dread, 

Nor  canst  thou  show  the  dead  are  dead. 


20  TJie  Two  Voices. 

"  The  sap  dries  up :  the  plant  declines  : 
A  deeper  tale  my  heart  divines  : 
Know  I  not  Death  ?  the  outward  signs  ? 

"  I  found  him  when  my  years  were  (ew : 
A  shadow  on  the  graves  I  knew, 
And  darkness  in  the  village  yew. 

"  From  grave  to  grave  the  shadow  crept : 
In  her  still  place  the  morning  wept : 
Touched  by  his  feet  the  daisy  slept. 

"  The  simple  senses  crowned  his  head : 
i  Omega !  thou  art  Lord/  they  said, 
i  We  find  no  motion  in  the  dead.' 

"  Why,  if  man  rot  in  dreamless  ease, 
Should  that  plain  fact,  as  taught  by  these, 
Not  make  him  sure  that  he  shall  cease  ? 

"  Who  forged  that  other  influence, 

That  heat  of  inward  evidence, 

By  which  he  doubts  against  the  sense  ? 

"  He  owns  the  fatal  gift  of  eyes 
That  read  his  spirit  blindly  wise, 
Not  simple  as  a  thing  that  dies. 


The  Two  Voices.  21 

u  Here  sits  he  shaping  wings  to  fly ; 
His  heart  forebodes  a  mystery : 
He  names  the  name  Eternity. 

u  That  type  of  Perfect  in  his  mind 
In  Nature  can  he  nowhere  find. 
He  sows  himself  on  every  wind. 

"  He  seems  to  hear  a  Heavenly  Friend, 
And  through  thick  veils  to  apprehend 
A  labor  working  to  an  end. 

"  The  end  and  the  beginning  vex 

His  reason :  many  things  perplex, 

With  motions,  checks,  and  counter-checks. 

"  He  knows  a  baseness  in  his  blood 

At  such  strange  war  with  something  good, 

He  may  not  do  the  thing  he  would. 

"  Heaven  opens  inward,  chasms  yawn, 
Vast  images  in  glimmering  dawn. 
Half  shown,  are  broken  and  withdrawn. 

*•  Ah  !  sure  within  him  and  without, 
Could  his  dark  wisdom  find  it  out, 
There  must  be  answer  to  his  doubt. 


22  The  Two  Voices. 

"  But  thou  canst  answer  not  again : 
With  thine  own  weapon  art  thou  slain, 
Or  thou  wilt  answer  but  in  vain. 

"  The  doubt  would  rest,  I  dare  not  solve  : 
In  the  same  circle  we  revolve : 
Assurance  only  breeds  resolve." 

As  when  a  billow,  blown  against, 

Falls  back,  the  voice  with  which  I  fenced 

A  little  ceased,  but  recommenced  : 

"  Where  wert  thou  when  thy  father  played 
In  his  free  field,  and  pastime  made, 
A  merry  boy  in  sun  and  shade  ? 

"  A  merry  boy  they  called  him  then. 
He  sat  upon  the  knees  of  men 
In  days  that  never  come  again. 

"  Before  the  little  ducts  began 

To  feed  thy  bones  with  lime,  and  ran 

Their  course,  till  thou  wert  also  man : 

"  Who  took  a  wife,  who  reared  his  race, 
Whose  wrinkles  gathered  on  his  face, 
Whose  troubles  number  with  his  days : 


The  Two  Voices.  23 

"  A  life  of  nothings,  nothing  worth, 
From  that  first  nothing  ere  his  birth 
To  that  last  nothing  under  earth ! " 

u  These  words,"  I  said,  "  are  like  the  rest, 
No  certain  clearness,  but  at  best 
A  vague  suspicion  of  the  breast : 

u  But  if  I  grant,  thou  might'st  defend 
The  thesis  which  thy  words  intend, — 
That  to  begin  implies  to  end ; 

u  Yet  how  should  I  for  certain  hold, 
Because  my  memory  is  so  cold, 
That  I  first  was  in  human  mould  ? 

"  I  cannot  make  this  matter  plain, 
But  I  would  shoot,  howe'er  in  vain, 
A  random  arrow  from  the  brain. 

"  It  may  be  that  no  life  is  found, 
Which  only  to  one  engine  bound 
Falls  off,  but  cycles  always  round. 

"  As  old  mythologies  relate, 

Some  draught  of  Lethe  might  await 

The  slipping  through  from  state  to  state. 


24  TJie  Two  Voices. 

"  As  here  we  find  in  trances,  men 
Forget  the  dream  that  happens  then, 
Until  they  fall  in  trance  again. 

"  So  might  we,  if  our  state  were  such 

As  one  before,  remember  much, 

For  those  two  likes  might  meet  and  touch. 

"  But,  if  I  lapsed  from  nobler  place, 
Some  legend  of  a  fallen  race 
Alone  might  hint  of  my  disgrace  ; 

"  Some  vague  emotion  of  delight 

In  gazing  up  an  Alpine  height, 

Some  yearning  toward  the  lamps  of  night. 

"  Or  if  through  lower  lives  I  came  — 
Though  all  experience  past  became 
Consolidate  in  mind  and  frame  — 

"  I  might  forget  my  weaker  lot ; 
For  is  not  our  first  year  forgot  ? 
The  haunts  of  memory  echo  not. 

"  And  men,  whose  reason  long  was  blind, 
From  cells  of  madness  unconfined, 
Oft  lose  whole  years  of  darker  mind. 


Tlie  Two  Voices.  25 

'•  Much  more,  if  first  I  floated  free, 
As  naked  essence,  must  I  be 
Incompetent  of  memory  : 

"  For  memory  dealing  but  with  time, 
And  he  with  matter,  could  she  climb 
Beyond  her  own  material  prime  ? 

u  Moreover,  something  is  or  seems, 
That  touches  me  with  mystic  gleams, 
Like  glimpses  of  forgotten  dreams  — 

"  Of  something  felt,  like  something  here ; 
Of  something  done,  I  know  not  where ; 
Such  as  no  language  may  declare." 

The  still  voice  laughed.     "  I  talk,"  said  he, 
u  Not  with  thy  dreams.     Suffice  it  thee 
Thy  pain  is  a  reality." 

"  But  thou,"  said  I.  -  hast  missed  thy  mark, 
"Who  sough t'st  to  wreck  my  mortal  ark, 
By  making  all  the  horizon  dark. 

-  Why  not  set  forth,  if  I  should  do 
This  rashness,  that  which  might  ensue 
With  this  old  soul  in  organs  new  ? 


26  The  Two  Voices. 

"  Whatever  crazy  sorrow  saith, 

No  life  that  breathes  with  human  breath 

Has  ever  truly  longed  for  death. 

"  'T  is  life,  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
Oh  life,  not  death,  for  which  we  pant ; 
More  life,  and  fuller,  that  I  want." 

I  ceased,  and  sat  as  one  forlorn. 
Then  said  the  voice,  in  quiet  scorn, 
"  Behold,  it  is  the  Sabbath  morn." 

And  I  arose,  and  I  released 

The  casement,  and  the  light  increased 

With  freshness  in  the  dawning  east. 

Like  softened  airs  that  blowing  steal, 
When  meres  begin  to  uncongeal, 
The  sweet  church-bells  began  to  peal. 

On  to  God's  house  the  people  prest : 
Passing  the  place  where  each  must  rest, 
Each  entered  like  a  welcome  guest. 

One  walked  between  his  wife  and  child, 
With  measured  footfall  firm  and  mild, 
And  now  and  then  he  gravely  smiled. 


The  Two  Voices.  27 

The  prudent  partner  of  his  blood 
Leaned  on  him,  faithful,  gentle,  good, 
Wearing  the  rose  of  womanhood. 

And  in  their  double  love  secure, 
The  little  maiden  walked  demure, 
Pacing  with  downward  eyelids  pure. 

These  three  made  unity  so  sweet, 
My  frozen  heart  began  to  beat, 
Remembering  its  ancient  heat. 

I  blest  them,  and  they  wandered  on : 
I  spoke,  but  answer  came  there  none  : 
The  dull  and  bitter  voice  was  gone. 

A  second  voice  was  at  mine  ear, 

A  little  whisper  silver-clear, 

A  murmur,  "  Be  of  better  cheer." 

As  from  some  blissful  neighborhood, 

A  notice  faintly  understood, 

"  I  see  the  end,  and  know  the  good." 

A  little  hint  to  solace  woe, 

A  hint,  a  whisper  breathing  low, 

u  I  may  not  speak  of  what  I  know." 


28  The  Two  Voices. 

Like  an  JEolian  harp,  that  wakes 

No  certain  air,  but  overtakes 

Far  thought  with  music  that  it  makes,  — 

Such  seemed  the  whisper  at  my  side  : 

"  What  is  't  thou  know'st,  sweet  voice  ?  "  I  cried. 

"  A  hidden  hope,"  the  voice  replied : 

So  heavenly-toned,  that  in  that  hour 
From  out  my  sullen  heart  a  power 
Broke,  like  the  rainbow  from  the  shower, 

To  feel,  although  no  tongue  can  prove, 
That  every  cloud  that  spreads  above, 
And  veileth  love,  itself  is  love. 

And  forth  into  the  fields  I  went, 
And  Nature's  living  motion  lent 
The  pulse  of  hope  to  discontent. 

I  wondered  at  the  bounteous  hours, 

The  slow  result  of  winter  showers : 

You  scarce  could  see  the  grass  for  flowers. 

I  wondered,  while  I  paced  along : 

The  woods  were  filled  so  full  with  song, 

There  seemed  no  room  for  sense  of  wrong. 


The  Two  Voices.  29 

So  variously  seemed  all  things  wrought, 
I  marvelled  how  the  mind  was  brought 
To  anchor  by  one  gloomy  thought ; 

And  wherefore  rather  I  made  choice 
To  commune  with  that  barren  voice, 
Than  him  that  said,  "  Rejoice  !  rejoice  !  * 


LIFE   SHALL  LIVE   FOR   EVERMORE. 

My  own  dim  life  should  teach  me  this, 
That  life  shall  live  for  evermore,  — 
Else  earth  is  darkness  at  the  core, 

And  dust  and  ashes  all  that  is  : 

This  round  of  green,  this  orb  of  flame, 
Fantastic  beauty  ;  such  as  lurks 
In  some  wild  Poet,  wrhen  he  works 

Without  a  conscience  or  an  aim. 

What  then  were  God  to  such  as  I  ? 

'T  were  hardly  worth  my  while  to  choose 
Of  things  all  mortal,  or  to  use 

A  little  patience  ere  I  die. 

'T  were  best  at  once  to  sink  to  peace  ; 

Like  birds  the  charming  serpent  draws, 
To  drop  head-foremost  in  the  jaws 

Of  vacant  darkness,  and  to  cease. 


Life  sliall  Live  Forever.  31 

Yet  if  some  voice  that  man  could  trust 

Should  murmur  from  the  narrow  house, 
"  The  cheeks  drop  in  ;  the  body  bows  ; 

Man  dies  ;  nor  is  there  hope  in  dust "  : 

Might  I  not  say,  "  Yet  even  here, 

But  for  one  hour,  O  Love,  I  strive 
To  keep  so  sweet  a  thing  alive  "  ? 

But  I  should  turn  mine  ears  and  hear 

The  moanings  of  the  homeless  sea, 

The  sound  of  streams  that,  swift  or  slow, 
Draw  down  aeonian  hills,  and  sow 

The  dust  of  continents  to  be  : 

And  Love  would  answer  with  a  sigh, 
u  The  sound  of  that  forgetful  shore 
Will  change  my  sweetness  more  and  more, 

Half  dead  to  know  that  I  shall  die." 

Oh  me,  what  profits  it  to  put 

An  idle  case  !     If  Death  were  seen 
At  first  as  Death,  Love  had  not  been, 

Or  been  in  narrowest  working  shut, 

Mere  fellowship  of  sluggish  moods, 

Or,  in  his  coarsest  satyr-shape, 

Had  bruised  the  herb  and  crushed  the  grape, 
And  basked  and  battened  in  the  woods. 


EVIL   SHALL  END  IN   GOOD. 

Oh,  yet  we  trust  that  somehow  good 
Will  be  the  final  goal  of  ill, 
To  pangs  of  nature,  sins  of  will, 

Defects  of  doubt,  and  taints  of  blood ; 

That  nothing  walks  with  aimless  feet ; 
That  not  one  life  shall  be  destroyed, 
Or  cast  as  rubbish  to  the  void, 

When  God  hath  made  the  pile  complete ; 

That  not  a  worm  is  cloven  in  vain  ; 
That  not  a  moth  with  vain  desire 
Is  shrivelled  in  a  fruitless  fire, 

Or  but  subserves  another's  gain. 

Behold,  we  know  not  anything  ; 
I  can  but  trust  that  good  shall  fall 
At  last  —  far  off —  at  last,  to  all, 

And  every  winter  change  to  spring. 


Evil  shall  end  in  Good.  33 

So  runs  my  dream  :  but  what  am  I  ? 
An  infant  crying  in  the  night : 
An  infant  crying  for  the  light : 

And  with  no  language  but  a  cry. 


The  wish,  that  of  the  living  whole 
No  life  may  fail  beyond  the  grave, 
Derives  it  not  from  what  we  have 

The  likest  God  within  the  soul  ? 

Are  God  and  Xature  then  at  strife, 
That  Xature  lends  such  evil  dreams  ? 
So  careful  of  the  type  she  seems, 

So  careless  of  the  single  life  ; 

That  I,  considering  everywhere 
Her  secret  meaning  in  her  deeds, 
And  finding  that  of  fifty  seeds 

She  often  brings  but  one  to  bear, 

I  falter  where  I  firmly  trod. 

And  falling  with  my  weight  of  cares 
Upon  the  great  world's  altar-stairs. 

That  slope  through  darkness  up  to  God, 

I  stretch  lame  hands  of  faith,  and  grope, 

And  gather  dust  and  chaff,  and  call 


34  Evil  shall  end  in  Good. 

To  what  I  feel  is  Lord  of  all, 
And  faintly  trust  the  larger  hope. 


"So  careful  of  the  type  ?  "  but  no : 
From  scarped  cliff  and  quarried  stone 
She  cries,  "  A  thousand  types  are  gone  : 

I  care  for  nothing,  all  shall  go. 

"  Thou  makest  thine  appeal  to  me : 
I  bring  to  life,  I  bring  to  death  : 
The  spirit  does  but  mean  the  breath  : 

I  know  no  more."     And  he,  shall  he, 

Man,  her  last  work,  who  seemed  so  fair, 
Such  splendid  purpose  in  his  eyes, 
Who  rolled  the  psalm  to  wintry  skies, 

Who  built  him  fanes  of  fruitless  prayer, 

Who  trusted  God  was  love  indeed, 
And  love  Creation's  final  law  — 
Though  Nature,  red  in  tooth  and  claw 

With  ravine,  shrieked  against  his  creed  — 

Who  loved,  who  suffered  countless  ills, 
Who  battled  for  the  True,  the  Just, 
Be  blown  about  the  desert  dust, 

Or  sealed  within  the  iron  hills  ? 


Evil  sIkiU  end  in  Good.  35 

No  more  ?     A  monster  then,  a  dream, 
A  discord.     Dragons  of  the  prime, 
That  tare  each  other  in  their  slime, 

Were  mellow  music  matched  with  him. 

Oh  life  as  futile,  then,  as  frail ! 

Oh  for  thy  voice  to  soothe  and  bless ! 

"What  hope  of  answer,  or  redress  ? 
Behind  the  veil,  behind  the  veil  ! 


OPPOSITIONS   OF   SCIENCE. 

I  trust  I  have  not  wasted  breath : 
I  think  we  are  not  wholly  brain, 
Magnetic  mockeries  ;  not  in  vain, 

Like  Paul  with  beasts,  I  fought  with  Death. 

Not  only  cunning  casts  in  clay : 
Let  Science  prove  we  are,  and  then 
What  matters  Science  unto  men  ?  — 

At  least  to  me  ?  —  I' would  not  stay. 


THROUGH  A  GLASS  DARKLY. 

The  human  spirits  saw  I  on  a  day, 
Sitting  and  looking  each  a  different  way ; 
And  hardly  tasking,  subtly  questioning, 
Another  spirit  went  around  the  ring 
To  each  and  each :  and  as  he  ceased  his  say, 
Each  after  each,  I  heard  them  singly  sing, 
Some  querulously  high,  some  softly,  sadly  low, 
We  know  not,  —  what  avails  to  know  ? 
We  know  not,  —  wherefore  need  we  know  ? 
This  answer  gave  they  still  unto  his  suing, — 
We  know  not,  let  us  do  as  we  are  doing. 

Dost  thou  not  know  thai  these  things  only  seem? 
I  know  not,  let  me  dream  my  dream. 
Are  dust  and  a  sites  Jit  to  make  a  treasure? 
I  know  not,  let  me  take  my  pleasure. 

What  shall  avail  the  knowledge  thou  hast  sought? 
I  know  not.  let  me  think  mv  thought 

What  i.<  the  end  of  strife  '. 
I  know  not.  let  me  live  my  life. 


38  Through  a  Glass  darkly. 

How  many  days  or  e'er  thou  meanest  to  move  ? 

I  know  not,  let  me  love  my  love. 

Were  not  things  old  once  new? 

I  know  not,  let  me  do  as  others  do. 

And  when  the  rest  were  overpast, 

I  know  not,  I  will  do  my  duty,  said  the  last. 

Thy  duty  do?  rejoined  the  voice, 
Ah  do  it,  do  it,  and  rejoice ; 
But  shalt  thou  then,  when  all  is  done, 
Enjoy  a  love,  embrace  a  beauty 
Like  these,  that  may  be  seen  and  won 
In  life,  whose  course  will  then  be  run  : 
Or  wilt  thou  be  where  there  is  none  ? 
I  know  not,  I  will  do  my  duty. 

And  taking  up  the  word  around,  above,  below, 
Some  querulously  high,  some  softly,  sadly  low, 
We  know  not,  sang  they  all,  nor  ever  need  we 

know ! 
We  know  not,  sang  they,  what  avails  to  know  ? 
Whereat  the  questioning  spirit,  some  short  space, 
Though  unabashed,  stood  quiet  in  his  place. 
But  as  the  echoing  chorus  died  away, 
And  to  their  dreams  the  rest  returned  apace, 
By  the  one  spirit  I  saw  him  kneeling  low, 
And  in  a  silvery  whisper  heard  him  say : 
Truly,  thou  knowst  not,  and  thou  needst  not 

know  ; 


Through  a  Glass  darkly.  39 

Hope  only,  hope  thou,  and  believe  alway. 
I  also  know  not,  and  I  need  not  know, 
Only  with  questionings  pass  I  to  and  fro, 
Perplexing  these  that  sleep,  and  in  their  folly 
Tmbreeding  doubt  and  sceptic  melancholy ; 
Till  that  their  dreams  deserting,  they  with  me, 
Come  all  to  this  true  ignorance  and  thee. 


Ich  leb\  und  weiss  nicht  wie  lang  ; 
Ich  sterb%  und  weiss  nicht  icann  ; 
Ich  fahr\  und  iveiss  nicht  ivohin  ; 
Mich  wundert  dass  ich  frbhlich  bin! 


A  WORLD  WITHOUT   GOD. 

O'er  throngs  of  men  around  I  cast  mine  eyes, 
While  each  to  separate  work  his  hand  applies ; 
The  mean  who  toil  for  food,  the  proud  for  fame, 
And  crowds,  by  custom  led,  with  scarce  an  aim. 

Here  busy  dwarfs  gigantic  shadows  chase, 
As  if  they  thus  could  grow  a  giant  race ; 
Unknowing  what  they  are,  they  fain  would  be 
Such  empty  dreams  as  in  their  sleep  they  see. 

There  lives  like  glittering  bubbles  mount  thtf 

sky, 
Contemning  earth,  from  whence  they  rose  or* 

high, 
A  moment  catch  the  stars'  eternal  rays, 
And  burst  and  vanish  in  the  moon's  clear  gaze. 

Or  torn  by  passion,  swoln  with  falsest  pride, 
Betrayed  by  doubt  that  mocks  each  surer  guide 
The  rebel  heart,  in  self-enthroned  disdain, 
Its  lawless  weakness  boasts,  and  penal  pain. 


A  World  without  God.  41 

Alone  it  loves  to  bleed,  and  groan  apart, 
And  scorn  the  crowd  who  stir  the  seething  mart, 
Who  each  will  own,  befooled  by  ease  and  pelf, 
Nor  earth  nor  heaven  beyond  his  shrivelled  self. 

And  yet.  O  God !  within  each  darkened  soul 

Is  life  akin  to  thy  creation's  whole, 

That  needs  but  will  to  see,  and  straight  would 

find 
The  world  one  frame  for  one  pervading  Mind. 

In  all  things  round  one  sacred  Power  would  know, 
From  thee  diffused  through  all  thy  works  be- 
low ; 
In  every  breath  of  life  would  hear  thy  call, 
And  All  discern  in  Each,  and  Thee  in  All. 

A  truth  too  vast  for  spirits  lost  in  sloth, 
By  self-indulgence  marred  of  nobler  growth, 
Who  bear  about,  in  impotence  and  shame, 
Their  human  reason's  visionary  name. 

Oh  !  grant  the   crowds  of  earth   may  read  thy 

plan, 
And  strive  to  reach  the  hope  designed  for  man  ; 
Though   now  shorn,  stunted,  twisted,  withered, 

spent, 
We  dare  not  dream  how  high  thy  love's  intent. 


42  A  World  without  God. 

0  God!  'twere  more  than  life   to   mouldering 

dust, 
The  hour  that  kindled  men  to  thoughtful  trust ; 
That  taught  our  hearts  to  seek  thy  righteous 

will, 
And  so  with  love  thy  wisdom's  task  fulfil. 

Redeemed  from  fear,  and  washed  from  lustful  blot, 
By  faith  we  then  might  rise  above  our  lot ; 
And  like  thy  chosen  few,  restored  within, 
By  hearts  as  morning  pure  might  conquer  sin ! 


FOR   FAITH   AND   REVERENCE. 

Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 
Whom  we.  that  have  not  seen  thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  embrace, 

Believing  where  we  cannot  prove  ! 

Thou  wilt  not  leave  ns  in  the  dust ; 

Thou  madest  man,  he  knows  not  why ; 

He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die ; 
And  thou  hast  made  him :  thou  art  just. 

Thou  seemest  human  and  divine, 
The  highest,  holiest  manhood,  thou  : 
Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how,  — 

Our  wills  are  ours,  to  make  them  thine. 

Our  little  systems  have  their  day  ; 

They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be  ; 

They  are  but  broken  lights  of  thee, 
And  thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they. 


44  For  Faith  and  Reverence. 

We  have  but  faith ;  we  cannot  know ; 

For  knowledge  is  of  things  we  see ; 

And  yet  we  trust  it  comes  from  thee, 
A  beam  in  darkness  —  let  it  grow ! 

Let  knowledge  grow  from  more  to  more, 
But  more  of  reverence  in  us  dwell, 
That  mind  and  soul,  according  well, 

May  make  one  music,  as  before  : 

But  vaster.     We  are  fools  and  slight ; 

We  mock  thee  when  we  do  not  fear; 

But  help  thy  foolish  ones  to  bear, 
Help  thy  vain  worlds  to  bear  thy  light ! 


'--x^rcftj^.a-'-' 


Reverence  is  the  bond  for  man 

With  all  of  best  his  eyes  discern  ; 

Love  teaches  more  than  Doctrine  can, 
And  no  pure  Hope  will  vainly  yearn. 


But  all  from  depths  of  mystery  grows, 
Which  hide  from  us  the  root  of  things  ; 

And  good  beyond  what  Science  knows 
To  man  his  Faith's  high  reason  brings. 


CHRIST   IN   THE   WORLD. 

Amid  the  gay  and  noisy  throng 

Around  me  fluttering,  wheeling,  shining, 
My  ears  are  filled  with  shout  and  song, 

But  yet  my  soul  is  still  repining, 

Mid  bounding  joy,  and  passion's  glow, 
Mid  sportive  bursts  of  mutual  gladness, 

Thin  shades  arise  from  far  below, 

Where  boils  a  secret  gulf  of  madness. 

A  quivering  cheek,  a  faltering  glance, 

One  throb,  one  sigh,  the  whole  revealing ; 

In  all  the  flashing,  whirling  dance, 
I  see  a  world  of  shipwreck  reeling. 

And  't  is  the  worst  despair  to  know, 
By  pangs  within  my  bosom  aching, 

How  deep  in  each  the  root  of  WOi 

How  many  a  heart  is  slowly  breaking. 

4 


46  Christ  in  the  World. 

But  while  my  sad  bewildered  view 
The  wide  confusion  vainly  traces, 

One  look  I  see  serenely  true, 

Among  the  false  and  loveless  faces. 

Like  yon  blue  sky,  when  first  it  shows 

The  storm-tost  ship  how  Heaven  hath  pity  ; 

Or  some  pure  mountain-breeze  that  blows 
Its  healing  o'er  a  plague-struck  city. 

A  voice  not  loud,  like  wind  or  wave, 

A  look  made  low  by  conscious  greatness, 

Where  all  is  calm,  and  deep,  and  grave, 
With  a  full  soul's  mature  sedateness. 

By  Him  subdued  to  thought  and  peace, 
The  crowd  no  more  in  tumult  wander  ; 

The  sounds  of  surging  riot  cease, 

And  hearts  high  swoln  devoutly  ponder. 

By  His  mild  glance  and  sober  power 

Renewed  to  tranquil  aspiration, 
My  soul  escapes  the  reckless  hour, 

And  learns  his  spirit's  pure  elation. 


PLATO    AND    CHRIST. 

Metiiinks.  0  Sage,  a  nobler  lore  than  thine 
More  steadfast  comfort  gives  and  holier  peace  ; 

And  I  am  fed  by  wisdom  more  divine 

Than    e'er   inspired    melodious    tongues    of 
Greece. 

On  other  shores,  beneath  more  eastern  skies, 
Thy  faith  was  once  proclaimed  from  age  to 
age, 

Not  sealed,  a  treasure  for  the  proudly  wise, 
But  spread,  a  people's  common  heritage. 

In  saint  and  prophet  burnt  with  keener  flame 
Than  e'er  illumed  thy  gracious  soul's  delight ; 

In  children's  words,  in  songs  of  ancient  fame 
Was  known,  ennobled  many  a  festal  rite. 

And  all  that  Athens  breathed  of  high  and  true. 
With    soaring    thought    and    finely    moulded 
speech, 


48  Plato  and  Christ. 

In  our  dear  Lord  to  act  and  being  grew, 

Whose  life  was  more  than  words  could  ever 
teach. 

A  heart  that  beat  for  every  human  woe, 

A  choice  in  holiest  purpose  pure  and  strong, 

A  truth,  sole  morning-light  of  all  below, 
A  love  triumphant  over  deadliest  wrong. 

In  Him,  thy  God,  O  Plato,  dwelt  on  earth, 
An  open  presence,  clear  of  earthly  ill ; 

The  life  which  drew  from  him  its  heavenly  birth 
In  all  who  seek  renews  his  perfect  will. 

So  have  we  sufferings,  so  a  trust  like  his, 

So  large  repentance,  born  with  many  a  throe, 

So  zeal  untired  to  better  all  that  is, 
And  peace  of  spirit  even  here  below. 

Then  be  it  mine  the  cross  with  him  to  bear, 
And  leave  the  flowery  shades  of  Academe ; 

With  him  go  mourning  through  the  infected  air 
Of  grief  and  sin,  and  drink  his  bitter  stream. 

So  clearness,  meekness,  and  unfaltering  might, 
Ungained,  though  bravely  sought,  O  Sage,  by 
thee, 

Shall  be  my  starry  chaplet  in  the  night, 

And  in  the  coming  dawn  my  crown  shall  be. 


OX   A    LIFE    MISSPENT    IN   VANITY    AND 
PASSION. 

F  VO  piangendo  i  miei  passati  tempi, 
I  quai  posi  in  amar  cosa  mortale, 
Senza  levarmi  a  volo,  avend'  io  V  ale 

Per  dar  forse  di  me  non  bassi  esempi. 

Tu.  che  vedi  i  miei  mali  indegni  ed  empi, 
Re  del  cielo,  invisibiie,  immortale, 
Soccorri  all'  alma  disviata  e  frale, 

E  '1  suo  difetto  di  tua  grazia  adempi ! 

Si  che.  s'  io  vissi  in  gnerra  ed  in  tempesta, 
Mora  in  pace  ed  in  porto  ;  e  se  la  stanza 
Fu  vana,  almen  sia  la  partita  onesta. 

A  quel  poco  di  viver  che  m'  avanza, 
Ed  al  morir,  degni  esser  tua  man  presta: 

Tu  sai  ben  che  'n  altrui  non  ho  speranza! 


SIN. 

Lord,  with  what  care  hast  thou  begirt  us  round  ! 

Parents  first  season  us  ;  then  schoolmasters 
Deliver  us  to  laws  ;  they  send  us  bound 

To  rules  of  reason,  holy  messengers ; 

Pulpits  and  Sundays,  sorrow  dogging  sin, 
Afflictions  sorted,  anguish  of  all  sizes, 

Fine  nets  and  stratagems  to  catch  us  in, 
Bibles  laid  open,  millions  of  surprises ; 

Blessings  beforehand,  ties  of  gratefulness, 
The  sound  of  glory  ringing  in  our  ears  ; 

Without,  our  shame  ;  within,  our  consciences ; 
Angels  and  grace,  eternal  hopes  and  fears,  — 

Yet  all  these  fences,  and  their  whole  array, 
One  cunning  bosom-sin  blows  quite  away ! 


FOR  FORGIVENESS. 

Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I  begun, 
Which  was  my  sin,  though  it  were  clone  be- 
fore ? 
Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  through  which  I  run, 
And  do  run  still,  though  still  I  do  deplore  ? 
When  thou  hast  done,  thou  hast  not  done, 
For  I  have  more. 

Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  have  won 

Others  to  sin,  and  made  my  sin  their  door  ? 
Wilt  thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  did  shun 
A  year  or  two.  but  wallowed  in  a  score  ? 
When  thou  hast  done,  thou  hast  not  done, 
For  I  have  more. 

I  have  a  sin  of  fear,  that  when  I  have  spun 
My  last  thread,  I  shall  perish  on  the  shore  : 

But  swear  by  thyself,  that  at  my  death  thy  Sim 
Shall  shine  as  he  shines  now,  and  heretofore, 

And  having  done  that,  thou  hast  done, — 
I  fear  no  more. 


ENTER  NOT  INTO  JUDGMENT,  O  LORD! 

Lord,  many  times  I  am  aweary  quite 

Of  mine  own  self,  my  sin,  my  vanity ; 
,Yet  be  not  thou,  or  I  am  lost  outright, 
Weary  of  me  ! 

And  hate  against  myself  I  often  bear, 

And  enter  with  myself  in  fierce  debate  : 
Take  thou  my  part  against  myself,  nor  share 
In  that  just  hate  ! 

Best  friends  might  loathe  us,  if  what  things  per- 
verse 
We  know  of  our  own  selves,  they  also  knew  : 
Lord,  Holy  One !  if  thou,  who  knowest  worse, 
Shouldst  loathe  us  too ! 


DISCIPLINE. 

Throw  away  thy  rod, 
Throw  away  thy  wrath, 

0  my  God, 
Take  the  gentle  path ! 

For  my  heart's  desire 
Unto  thine  is  bent : 

1  aspire 
To  a  full  consent. 

Though  I  fail.  I  weep : 
Though  I  halt  in  pace, 

Yet  I  creep 
To  the  throne  of  grace. 

Throw  away  thy  rod : 
Though  man  frailties  hath, 

Thou  art  God, — 
Throw  awav  thy  wrath  ! 


DIES  IR;E. 

Dies  irce,  dies  ilia, 

Sol  vet  sseclum  in  fa  villa, 

Teste  David  cum  Sibylla. 

Quantus  tremor  est  futurus, 
Quando  judex  est  venturus, 
Cuncta  stricte  discussurus ! 

Tuba  mirum  spargens  sonum 
Per  sepulcra  regionum, 
Coget  omnes  ante  thronum. 

Mors  stupebit,  et  natura, 
Cum  resurget  ereatura, 
Judicanti  responsura. 

Liber  scriptus  proferetur, 
In  quo  totum  continetur 
Unde  mundus  judicetur. 


DIES  IR.E. 

O  that  day,  that  day  of  ire, 
Told  of  Prophet,  when  in  fire 
Shall  a  world  dissolved  expire  ! 

O  what  terror  shall  be  then, 
When  the  Judge  shall  come  again, 
Strictly  searching  deeds  of  men  : 

"When  a  trump  of  awful  tone, 
Through  the  caves  sepulchral  blown, 
Summons  all  before  the  throne. 

What  amazement  shall  overtake 
Nature,  when  the  dead  shall  wake, 
Answer  to  the  Judge  to  make. 

Open  then  the  book  shall  lie, 
All  o'erwrit  for  every  eye 
With  a  world's  iniquity. 


56  Dies  Irce. 

Judex  ergo  cum  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet  apparebit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus, 
Quern  patronum  rogaturus, 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus  ! 

Rex  tremendae  majestatis, 
Qui  salvandos  salvas  gratis, 
Salva  me,  fons  pietatis  ! 

Recordare,  Jesu  pie, 
Quod  sum  causa  tuae  viae, 
Ne  me  perdas  ilia  die. 

Quaerens  me  sedisti  lassus, 
Redemisti  crucem  passus : 
Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus ! 

Juste  judex  ultionis, 
Donum  fac  remissionis, 
Ante  diem  rationis. 

Ingemesco  tanquam  reus, 
Culpa  rubet  vultus  meus, 
Supplicanti  parce,  Deus ! 


Dies  Ira\  57 

"When  the  Judge  his  place  has  ta'en, 
All  things  hid  shall  be  made  plain, 
Nothing  unavenged  remain. 

What  then,  wretched  !  shall  I  speak  ? 

Or  what  intercessor  seek, 

When  the  just  man's  cause  is  weak? 

King  of  awful  majesty, 

Who  the  saved  dost  freely  free, 

Fount  of  mercy,  pity  me. 

Jesus,  Lord,  remember,  pray, 
I  the  cause  was  of  thy  way  : 
Do  not  lose  me  on  that  day. 

Tired  thou  satest,  seeking  me,  — 
Crucified,  to  set  me  free ; 
Let  such  pain  not  fruitless  be. 

Terrible  Avenger,  make 

Of  thy  mercy  me  partake, 

Ere  that  day  of  vengeance  wake. 

As  a  criminal  I  groan. 
Blushing  deep  my  fault  I  own  : 
Grace  be  to  a  suppliant  shown. 


58  Dies  Irw. 

Qui  Mariam  absolvisti, 
Et  latronem  exaudisti, 
Mihi  quoque  spem  dedisti. 

Preces  meae  non  sunt  dignae, 
Sed  tu  bonus  fac  benigne, 
Xe  perenni  cremer  igne. 

Inter  oves  locum  praesta, 
Et  ab  hoedis  me  sequestra, 
Statuens  in  parte  dextra. 

Confutatis  maledictis, 
Flammis  acribus  addictis, 
Voca  me  cum  benedictis. 

Oro  supplex  et  acclinis, 
*     Cor  contritum  quasi  cinis  ; 
Gere  curam  mei  finis. 

Lacrimosa  dies  ilia, 
Qua  resurget  ex  fa  villa, 
Judicandus  homo  reus : 
Huic  ergo  parce,  Deus ! 


Dies  Irw.  59 

Thou  who  Mary  didst  forgive, 
And  who  bad'st  the  robber  live, 
Hope  to  me  dost  also  give. 

Though  my  prayer  unworthy  be, 
Yet  O  set  me  graciously 
From  the  fire  eternal  free. 

'Mid  thy  sheep  my  place  command, 
From  the  goats  far  off  to  stand  ; 
Set  me,  Lord,  at  thy  right  hand. 

And  when  them  who  scorned  thee  here 
Thou  hast  judged  to  doom  severe, 
Bid  me  with  thy  saved  draw  near. 

Lying  low  before  thy  throne, 
Crushed  my  heart  in  dust,  I  groan  ; 
Grace  be  to  a  suppliant  shown. 


UNDER  THE   CROSS. 

I  cannot,  cannot  say, 
Out  of  my  bruised  and  breaking  heart, 
Storm-driven  along  a  thorn-set  way, 

While  blood-drops  start 
From  every  pore,  as  I  drag  on, 

"  Thy  will,  O  God,  be  done  ! " 

I  thought,  but  yesterday, 
My  will  was  one  with  God's  dear  will ; 
And  that  it  would  be  sweet  to  say, 

Whatever  ill 
My  happy  state  should  smite  upon, 

"  Thy  will,  my  God,  be  done  ! " 

But  I  was  weak  and  wrong, 
Both  weak  of  soul  and  wrong  of  heart ; 
And  Pride  alone  in  me  was  strong, 

With  cunning  art 
To  cheat  me  in  the  golden  sun, 

To  say,  "  God's  will  be  done ! " 


Under  the  Cross.  61 

O  shadow  drear  and  cold, 
That  frights  me  out  of  foolish  pride  ; 

0  flood,  that  through  my  bosom  rolled 

Its  billowy  tide ; 

1  said,  till  ye  your  power  made  known, 

"  God's  will,  not  mine,  be  done  ! " 

Now.  faint  and  sore  afraid, 
Under  my  cross,  heavy  and  rude, 
My  idols  in  the  ashes  laid, 

Like  ashes  strewed, 
The  holy  words  my  pale  lips  shun, 

ta  O  God,  thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Pity  my  woes,  O  God, 
And  touch  my  will  with  thy  warm  breath  ; 
Put  in  my  trembling  hand  thy  rod, 

That  quickens  death  ; 
That  my  dead  faith  may  feel  thy  sun, 

And  say,  u  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 


NOT  THIS! 

What,  many  times  I  musing  asked,  is  man, 

If  grief  and  care 
Keep  far  from  him  ?  he  knows  not  what  he  can, 

What  cannot  bear. 

He,  till  the  fire  hath  purged  him,  doth  remain 

Mixed  all  with  dross : 
To  lack  the  loving  discipline  of  pain 

Were  endless  loss. 

Yet  when  my  Lord  did  ask  me  on  what  side 

I  were  content 
The  grief  whereby  I  must  be  purified, 

To  me  were  sent, 

As  each  imagined  anguish  did  appear, 

Each  withering  bliss 
Before  my  soul,  I  cried,  "  Oh  !  spare  me  here  : 

Oh  no,  not  this  !  " 


Not  This.  63 

Like  one  that  having  need  of,  deep  within, 

The  surgeon's  knife, 
Would  hardly  bear  that  it  should  graze  the  skin, 

Though  for  his  life. 

Nay  then  but  He,  who  best  doth  understand 

Both  what  we  need, 
And  what  can  bear,  did  take  my  case  in  hand, 

Nor  crying  heed. 


CHRIST'S   CUP. 

"  —  And  they  say  unto  him,  we  can."  —  Mark  x.  39. 

Ah  !  little  knew  I,  Lord,  when  thou  wouldst  first 
Allure  my  trembling  soul  to  thy  dear  side, 
And  bid  me,  sheltered  there,  in  peace  abide ; 
When  I  did  pray  as  they  two  prayed  erst 
Of  thine  own  cup  to  slake  their  spirits'  thirst, 
And  to  sit  by  thee  one  day  glorified  ; 
Ah !  little  knew  I  how  it  must  betide 
With  youth's  bright  hopes,  and  my  young  spirit's 

burst; 
How  —  pale,  and  sad,  and  trembling,  —  I  should 

see 
Earth's  visions,  one  by  one,  fade  all  away ; 
How  this  warm  heart  should  torn  and  riven  be, 
How  bitter  tears  should  feed  me  night  and  day, 
Ere  on  thy  love  my  soul  her  all  would  stay, 
Or  walk  this  busy  earth  alone  with  thee. 


CHASTENING. 

Within  this  leaf,  to  every  eye 
So  little  worth,  doth  hidden  lie 
Most  rare  and  subtle  fragrancy. 

Wouldst  thou  its  secret  strength  unbind  ? 
Crush  it,  and  thou  shalt  perfume  find 
Sweet  as  Arabia's  spicy  wind. 

In  this  dull  stone,  so  poor,  and  bare 
Of  shape  or  lustre,  patient  care 
Will  find  for  thee  a  jewel  rare : 

But  first  must  skilful  hands  essay 

With  file  and  flint  to  clear  away 

The  film  which  hides  its  fire  from  clay. 

This  leaf?  this  stone  ?     It  is  thy  heart : 
It  must  be  crushed  by  pain  and  smart,  — 
It  must  be  cleansed  by  sorrow's  art, — 

Ere  it  will  yield  a  fragrance  sweet, 

Ere  it  will  shine  a  jewel  meet 

To  lay  before  thy  dear  Lord's  feet. 


PILGRIMAGE. 

I  travelled  on,  seeing  the  hill  where  lay 

My  expectation  : 
A  long  it  was  and  weary  way  : 

The  gloomy  Cave  of  Desperation 
I  left  on  the  one,  and  on  the  other  side 

The  Rock  of  Pride. 

And  so  I  came  to  Fancy's  Meadow,  strowed 

With  many  a  flower  : 
Fain  would  I  here  have  made  abode, 
But  I  was  quickened  by  my  hour : 
So  to  Care's  Copse  I  came,  and  there  got  through 

With  much  ado. 

That  led  me  to  the  Wild  of  Passion,  which 

Some  call  the  Wold,  — 
A  wasted  place,  but  sometime  rich : 

Here  I  was  robbed  of  all  my  gold, 
Save  one  good  angel,  which  a  friend  had  tied 
.  Close  to  my  side. 


Pilgrimage.  67 

At  length  I  got  unto  the  gladsome  hill, 

Where  lay  my  hope, 
Where  lay  my  heart ;  and  climbing  still, 

When  I  had  gained  the  brow  and  top, 
A  lake  of  brackish  waters  on  the  ground 
Was  all  I  found ! 

With  that  abashed,  and  struck  with  many  a  sting 

Of  swarming  fears, 
I  fell,  and  cried,  Alas,  my  King! 

Can  both  the  way  and  end  be  tears ? 
Yet  taking  heart  I  rose,  and  then  perceived 

I  was  deceived : 

3Iy  hill  was  further :  so  I  flung  away, 

Yet  heard  a  cry, 
Just  as  I  went  None  goes  that  wag 
And  lives.     If  that  be  all,  said  I, 
After  so  foul  a  journey  death  is  fair, 
And  but  a  chair. 


PILGRIMAGE. 

A  PASSAGE  FROM  ST.  AUGUSTIN. 

Wert  thou  a  wanderer  on  a  foreign  strand, 
Who  yet  could'st  only  in  thy  native  land 
Find  peace,  or  joy,  or  any  blessed  thing,  — 
And  thy  long  woes  unto  an  end  to  bring, 
Should'st  there  at  length  determine  to  return, 
Since  in  all  other  places  doomed  to  mourn,  — 
But,  having  need  of  carriages  for  this, 
To  bring  thee  to  thy  country  and  true  bliss, 
What  if  the  pleasant  motion  which  they  made, 
With  the  fair  prospects  on  each  side  displayed, 
Should  so  attract  thee,  thou  at  last  wert  fain 
The  things  for  use  lent  only,  to  retain  ; 
So  taken  with  their  passing,  slight  delight, 
That,  from  thy  country  alienated  quite, 
And  its  true  joys  whereto  thou  first  didst  tend, 
And  loathing  to  approach  thy  journey's  end, 
Thou  should'st  be  now  a  pilgrim  with  the  fear 
Lest  thy  long  pilgrimage's  close  was  near : 
If  it  were  this  way  with  thee,  we  might  say, 
Thou  didst  man's  life  unto  the  life  portray. 


THE   WAY  IS   SHORT. 

I  think  we  are  too  ready  with  complaint 

In  this  fair  world  of  God's.     Had  we  no  hope 
Indeed  beyond  the  zenith  and  the  slope 

Of  yon  gray  blank  of  sky,  we  might  be  faint 

To  muse  upon  eternity's  constraint 

Round  our  aspirant  souls.    But  since  the  scope 
Must  widen  early,  is  it  well  to  droop, 

For  a  few  days  consumed  in  loss  and  taint  ? 

O  pusillanimous  heart,  be  comforted, 

And,  like  a  cheerful  traveller,  take  the  road, 

Singing  beside  the  hedge.     What  if  the  bread 
l>e  bitter  in  thine  inn.  and  thou  unshod 

To  meet  the  flints?     At  least  it  may  be  said, 
••  Because    the    way    is   short,   I    thank    thee, 
God  : " 


THE   ANGEL    OF   PATIENCE. 

To  weary  hearts,  to  mourning  homes, 
God's  meekest  Angel  gently  comes  : 
No  power  has  he  to  banish  pain, 
Or  give  us  back  our  lost  again ; 
And  yet,  in  tenderest  love,  our  dear 
And  Heavenly  Father  sends  him  here. 

There 's  quiet  in  that  Angel's  glance, 
There  's  rest  in  his  still  countenance ! 
He  mocks  no  grief  with  idle  cheer, 
Nor  wounds  with  words  the  mourner's  ear ; 
But  ills  and  woes  he  may  not  cure 
He  kindly  trains  us  to  endure. 

Angel  of  Patience  !  sent  to  calm 
Our  feverish  brows  with  cooling  palm  ; 
To  lay  the  storms  of  hope  and  fear, 
And  reconcile  life's  smile  and  tear  ; 
The  throbs  of  wounded  grief  to  still, 
And  make  our  own  our  Father's  will  ! 


The  Angel  of  Patience.  71 

O  thou  who  mournest  on  thy  way. 
With  longings  for  the  close  of  day, 
He  walks  with  thee,  that  Angel  kind, 
And  gently  whispers.  "  Be  resigned  : 
Bear  up.  bear  on,  the  end  shall  tell 
The  dear  Lord  ordereth  all  things  well !  " 


VIA   CRUCIS   VIA  LUCIS. 

Through  night  to  light !     And  though  to  mor- 
tal eyes 
Creation's  face  a  pall  of  horror  wear. 
Good  cheer !  good  cheer !     The  gloom  of  mid- 
night flies ; 
Then  shall  a  sunrise  follow,  mild  and  fair. 

Through    storm    to    calm !       And    though    his 
thunder-car 
The   rumbling  tempest  drive   through  earth 
and  sky, 
Good  cheer !  good  cheer  !     The  elemental  war 
Tells  that  a  blessed,  healing  hour  is  nigh. 

Through   frost   to   spring !      And   though    the 
biting  blast 
Of  Eurus  stiffen  nature's  juicy  veins, 
Good    cheer !    good     cheer !      When    winter's 
wrath  is  past, 
Soft-murmuring  spring  breathes  sweetly  o'er 
the  plains. 


Via  Cruris  via  Lucis.  73 

Through    strife    to   peace !     And    though,  with 
bristling  front, 
A  thousand  frightful  deaths  encompass  thee, 
Good  cheer!  good  cheer!  brave  thou  the  bat- 
tle's brunt 
For  the  peace-march  and  song  of  victory. 

Through  toil  to  sleep !     And  though  the  sultry 
noon, 
With  heavy,  drooping  wing,  oppress  thee  now, 
Good  cheer !  good  cheer !    the  cool  of  evening 
soon 
Shall  lull  to  sweet  repose  thy  weary  brow. 

Through    cross    to    crown !      And   though    thy 
spirit's  life 
Trials  untold  assail  with  giant  strength, 
Good  cheer  !   good  cheer !   soon  ends  the  bitter 
strife, 
And  thou  shalt  reign  in  peace  with  Christ  at 
length. 

Through  woe    to  joy !      And    though    at  morn 
thou  weep, 
And  though  the  midnight  find  thee  weeping 
still, 
Good  cheer !    good  cheer !    the  Shepherd  loves 
his  sheep  ; 
Resign  thee  to  the  watchful  Father's  will. 


74  Via  Cruris  via  Liicis. 

Through  death  to  life  !     And  through  this 
vale  of  tears, 

And  through  this  thistle-field  of  life,  ascend 
To  the  great  supper,  in  that  world  whose  years 

Of  bliss  unfading,  cloudless,  know  no  end. 


IU0EI   MA0O2. 

I  only  would  be  spent,  —  in  pain 
And  loss,  perchance, —  but  not  in  vain. 

I  am  content  to  be  so  weak,  — 
Put  strength  into  the  words  I  speak, 
And  I  am  strong  in  what  I  seek ! 

I  am  content  to  be  so  bare 

Before  the  archers;  everywhere 

My  wounds  being  stroked  by  heavenly  air. 

Because  my  portion  was  assigned 
Wholesome  and  bitter  —  thou  art  kind, 
And  I  am  blessed  to  my  mind. 

I  know  —  is  all  the  mourner  saith  : 
Knowledge  by  suffering  entereth, 
And  Life  is  perfected  by  Death ! 

Glory  to  God  —  to  God  !  he  saith  : 
Knowledge  by  buffering  entereth, 
And  Life  is  perfected  by  Death  ! 


ADVERSA  MUNDI  TOLERA. 

Adversa  mundi  tolera 
Pro  Christi  nomine  ; 
Plus  nocent  saepe  prospera 
Cum  levi  flamine. 

Quum  a  multis  molestaris, 
Nihil  perdis,  sed  lucraris  ; 
Patiendo  promereris, 
Multa  bona  consequeris. 

Nam  Deum  honorificas, 
Et  angelos  laetificas  ; 
Coronam  tuam  duplicas, 
Et  proximos  aedificas. 

Labor  parvus  est  et  brevis  vita, 
Merces  grandis  est,  quies  infinita  ; 
Toties  martyr  Dei  efficeris, 
Quoties  pro  Deo  poenam  patieris. 


ENDURE    THE   WORLD'S    RUDE    BUFFET- 
INGS. 

Endure  the  world's  rude  bufFe tings, 
For  Christ  and  Charity ; 
More  hurtful  oft  the  flatterings 
Of  mild  prosperity. 

When  much  wrong  thy  soul  endure th, 
Gain,  not  loss,  to  thee  inured)  ; 
Patience  rich  reward  insureth, 
Goods  full  many  it  procureth. 

For  thou  the  Lord  dost  glorify, 
And  joys  of  augels  multiply  ; 
A  twofold  crown  thou  winn'st  thereby. 
And  dost  thy  neighbors  edify. 

Light  the  labor,  —  earthly  life  soon  speedeth  ; 
Great  the  gain,  —  eternal  rest  suceeedeth  ; 
Martyr  of  God,  so  oft  a  crown  thou  wean  st 
As  for  God  a  martyr's  pang  thou  bear 
6 


78  Adversa  Mundi  Tolera. 

Patiendo  fit  homo  melior, 
Auro  pulchrior,  vitro  clarior, 
A  vitiis  purgatior, 
Virtutibus  perfectior : 

Jesu  Christo  acceptior, 
Sanctis  quoque  similior, 
Hostibus  suis  fortior, 
Amicis  amabilior. 


Endure  the  World's  rude  Buffi-tings.     79 

T> ."  patience  man  becomes  more  excellent, 
Fairer  than  gold,  clear  as  the  firmament, 
More  pure  from  each  vile  element, 
In  every  grace  more  eminent : 

To  Jesus  more  acceptable, 
More  like  to  saints  unblamable, 
To  enemies  more  terrible, 
And  to  his  friends  more  lovable. 


A   CITY  THAT  HATH  FOUNDATIONS. 


Therefore,  0  friend,  I  would  not,  if  I  might, 
Rebuild  my  bouse  of  lies,  wherein  I  joyed 

One  time  to  dwell :  my  soul  shall  walk  in  white, 
Cast  down,  but  not  destroyed. 

Therefore  in  patience  I  possess  my  soul ; 

Yea,  therefore  as  a  flint  I  set  my  face, 
To  pluck  down,  to  build  up  again  the  whole,  — 

But  in  a  distant  place. 

These  thorns  are  sharp,  yet  I  can  tread  on  them  ; 

This  cup  is  loathsome,  yet  He  makes  it  sweet ; 
My  face  is  steadfast  toward  Jerusalem, 

My  heart  remembers  it, 

I  lift  the  hanging  hands,  the  feeble  knees,  — 
I,  precious   more   than    seven    times   molten 
gold,  — 

Until  the  clay  when  from  his  storehouses 
God  shall  bring  new  and  old ; 


A  City  that  liath  Foundations.        81 

Beauty  for  ashes,  oil  of  joy  for  grief, 

Garment  of  praise  for  spirit  of  heaviness ; 

Although  to-day  I  fade  as  doth  a  leaf, 
I  languish  and  grow  less. 

Although  to-day  he  prunes  my  twigs  with  pain, 
Yet  doth  his  blood  nourish  and  warm  my  root : 

To-morrow  I  shall  put  forth  buds  again, 
And  clothe  myself  with  fruit. 

Although  to-day  I  walk  in  tedious  ways, 
To-day  his  staff  is  turned  into  a  rod,  — 

Yet  will  I  wait  for  him  the  appointed  days, 
And  stay  upon  my  God. 


"  REJOICE  EVERMORE." 

But  how  should  we  be  glad  ? 
We,  that  are  journeying  through  a  vale  of  tears, 
Encompast  with  a  thousand  woes  and  fears, 

How  should  we  not  be  sad  ? 

Angels  that  ever  stand 
Within  the  presence-chamber,  and  there  raise 
The  never-interrupted  hymn  of  praise, 

May  welcome  this  command. 

Or  they  whose  strife  is  o'er, 
Who  all  their  weary  length  of  life  have  trod, 
As  pillars  now  within  the  temple  of  God, 

That  shall  go  out  no  more. 

But  we,  who  wander  here, 
We  that  are  exiled  in  this  gloomy  place, 
Still  doomed  to  water  earth's  unthankful  face 

With  many  a  bitter  tear,  — 


"Rejoice  Evermore"  83 

Bid  us  lament  and  mourn. 
Bid  us  that  we  go  mourning  all  the  day. 
And  we  will  find  it  easy  to  obey, 

Of  our  best  tilings  forlorn. 

But  not  that  we  be  glad ; 
If  it  be  true  the  mourners  are  the  blest, 
O  leave  us.  in  a  world  of  sin,  unrest, 

And  trouble,  to  be  sad. 


I  spake,  and  thought  to  weep  ; 
For  sin  and  sorrow,  suffering  and  crime. 
That  fill  the  world,  all  mine  appointed  time 

A  settled  grief  to  keep. 

When  lo  !  as  day  from  night, 
As  day  from  out  the  womb  of  night  forlorn, 
So  from  that  sorrow  was  that  gladness  born, 

Even  in  mine  own  despite. 

Yet  was  not  that  by  this 
Excluded;  at  the  coming  of  that  joy 
Fled  not  that  grief,  nor  did  that  grief  destroy 

The  newly-risen  bliss  : 

But  side  by  side  they  flow, 
Two  fountains  flowing  from  one  smitten  heart, 


84  "  Rejoice  Evermore." 

And  ofttimes  scarcely  to  be  known  apart,  — 
That  gladness  and  that  woe. 


Two  fountains  from  one  source, 
Or  which  from  two  such  neighboring  sources  run, 
That  aye  for  him  who  shall  unseal  the  one, 

The  other  flows  perforce. 

And  both  are  sweet  and  calm ; 
Fair  flowers  upon  the  banks  of  either  blow ; 
Both  fertilize  the  soil,  and  where  they  flow 

Shed  round  them  holy  balm. 


TO    SORROW. 

SlSTEB  Sorrow!  sit  beside  me, 
( )r.  if  I  must  wander,  guide  me  : 
Let  me  take  thy  hand  in  mine ; 
Cold  alike  are  mine  and  thine. 

Think  not.  Sorrow,  that  I  hate  thee  ; 
Think  not  I  am  frightened  at  thee ; 
Thou  art  come  for  some  good  end, 
I  will  treat  thee  as  a  friend. 

I  will  say  that  thou  art  bound 
My  unshielded  soul  to  wound 
l>y  some  force  without  thy  will, 
And  art  tender-minded  still. 

I  will  say  thou  givest  scope 
To  the  breath  and  light  of  hope  ; 
That  thy  gentle  tears  have  weight 
Hardest  hearts  to  penetrate  ; 


86  To  Sorrow. 

That  thy  shadow  brings  together 
Friends  long  lost  in  sunny  weather, 
With  an  hundred  offices 
Beautiful  and  blest  as  these. 

Softly  takest  thou  the  crown 
From  my  haughty  temples  down  : 
Place  it  on  thine  own  pale  brow  ; 
Pleasure  wears  one,  —  why  not  thou  ? 

Let  the  blossoms  glitter  there 
On  thy  long  unbanded  hair, 
And,  when  I  have  borne  my  pain, 
Thou  wilt  give  me  them  again. 


SAD   AND    SWEET. 

Sad  is  our  youth,  for  it  is  ever  going, 
Crumbling  away  beneath  our  very  feet : 
Sad  is  our  life,  for  it  is  ever  flowing, 
In  current  unperceived,  because  so  fleet : 
Sad  are  our  hopes,  for  they  were  sweet  in  sowing, 
But  tares  self-sown  have  overtopped  the  wheat : 
Sad  are  our  joys,  for  they  were  sweet  in  blow- 
ing. 
And  still,  O  still  their  dying  breath  is  sweet. 
And  sweet  is  youth,  although  it  hath  bereft  us 
Of  that  which  made  our  childhood  sweeter  still ; 
And  sweet  is  middle  life,  for  it  hath  left  us 
A  newer  Good  to  cure  an  older  111  : 
And  sweet  are  all  things,  when  we  learn  to  prize 

them, 
Not  for  their  sake,  but  I  lis  who  grants  them,  or 
denies  them ! 


LOYE  AND  DISCIPLINE. 

Sixce  in  a  land  not  barren  still, 
Because  thou  dost  thy  grace  distil, 
My  lot  is  falln,  blest  be  thy  will ! 

And  since  these  biting  frosts  but  kill 
Some  tares  in  me,  which  choke  or  spill 
That  seed  thou  sow'st,  blest  be  thy  skill ! 

Blest  be  thy  dew,  and  blest  thy  frost, 
And  happy  I  to  be  so  crost, 
And  cured  by  crosses  at  thy  cost. 

The  dew  doth  cheer  what  is  distrest ; 
The  frosts  ill  weeds  nip  and  molest ; 
In  both  thou  work'st  unto  the  best. 


THEY   ARE   ALL   GONE. 

They  are  all  gone  into  the  world  of  light, 

And  I  alone  sit  lingering  here  ! 
Their  very  memory  is  fair  and  bright, 

And  my  sad  thoughts  doth  clear. 

It  glows  and  glitters  in  my  cloudy  breast 
Like  stars  upon  some  gloomy  grove, 
Or  those  faint  beams  in  which  this  hill  is  drest 
After  the  sun's  remove. 

I  see  them  walking  in  an  air  of  glory, 

Whose  light  doth  trample  on  my  days,  — 
My  days,  which  are  at  best  but  dull  and  hoary, 
Mere  glimmering  and  decays. 

O  holy  hope,  and  high  humility  ! 
High  as  the  heavens  above  ! 
These    are   your  walks,   and   you   have    showed 
them  me 
To  kindle  my  cold  love. 


90  Tliey  are  all  gone. 

Dear,  beauteous  Death,  the  jewel  of  the  just, 

Shining  nowhere  but  in  the  dark, 
What  mysteries  do  lie  beyond  thy  dust, 
Could  man  outlook  that  mark  ! 

He  that  hath  found  some  fledged  bird's  nest  may 
know 
At  first  sight  if  the  bird  be  flown  ; 
But  what  fair  dell  or  grove  he  sings  in  now  — 
That  is  to  him  unknown. 

And  yet,  as  angels,  in  some  brighter  dreams, 

Call  to  the  soul  when  man  doth  sleep, 
So  some  strange  thoughts  transcend  our  wonted 
themes, 
And  into  glory  peep. 

If  a  star  were  confined  into  a  tomb. 

Her  captive  flames  must  needs  burn  there  ; 
But  when  the  hand  that  locked  her  up  gives 
room, 
She  '11  shine  through  all  the  sphere. 

O  Father  of  eternal  life,  and  all 
Created  glories  under  thee, 
Resume  thy  spirit  from  this  world  of  thrall 
Into  true  liberty ! 


They  are  (ill  gone.  91 

Either  disperse  these  mists,  which  blot  and  fill 

My  perspective  still  as  they  pass  ; 
Or  else  remove  me  hence  unto  that  hill 
Where  I  shall  need  no  glass. 


VANISHED. 

The  voice  which  I  did  more  esteem 

Than  music  in  her  sweetest  key,  — 
Those  eyes  which  unto  me  did  seem 
More  comfortable  than  the  day,  — 
Those  now  by  me,  as  they  have  been, 
Shall  never  more  be  heard  or  seen ; 
But  what  I  once  enjoyed  in  them 
Shall  seem  hereafter  as  a  dream. 

All  earthly  comforts  vanish  thus ; 

So  little  hold  of  them  have  we, 
That  we  from  them,  or  they  from  us, 

May  in  a  moment  ravished  be. 
Yet  we  are  neither  just  nor  wise 
If  present  mercies  we  despise  ; 
Or  mind  not  how  there  may  be  made 
A  thankful  use  of  what  we  had. 


DE   PROFUNDIS. 

The  face  which,  duly  as  the  sun, 
Rose  up  for  me  with  life  begun, 
To  mark  all  bright  hours  of  the  day 
With  hourly  love,  is  dimmed  away,  — 
And  yet  my  days  go  on,  —  go  on. 

The  heart  which,  like  a  staff,  was  one 
For  mine  to  lean  and  rest  upon, 
The  strongest  on  the  longest  day 
With  steadfast  love,  is  caught  away,  — 
And  yet  my  days  go  on,  —  go  on. 

And  cold  before  my  summer's  done, 
And  deaf  in  Nature's  general  tune, 
And  fallen  too  low  for  special  fear, 
And  here,  with  hope  no  longer  here,  — 
While  the  tears  drop,  my  days  go  on. 

Breath  freezes  on  my  lips  to  moan  : 
As  one  alone  —  once  not  alone  — 


94  De  Pmfiuulis. 

I  sit  and  knock  at  Nature's  door, 
Heart-bare,  heart-hungry,  very  poor, 
Whose  desolated  days  go  on. 

I  knock,  and  cry,  Undone,  undone ! 
Is  there  no  help,  no  comfort,  —  none? 
No  gleaning  in  the  wide  wheat-plains 
Where  others  drive  their  loaded  wains  ? 
My  vacant  days  go  on,  —  go  on. 


—  A  Voice  reproves  me  thereupon, 
More  sweet  than  Nature's  when  the  drone 
Of  bees  is  sweetest,  and  more  deep 
Than  when  the  rivers  overleap 
The  shuddering  pines,  and  thunder  on. 

God's  Voice,  not  Nature's  :  night  and  noon 
He  sits  upon  the  great  white  throne, 
And  listens  for  the  creatures'  praise. 
What  babble  we  of  days  and  days  ? 
The  Day-spring  He,  whose  days  go  on. 

He  reigns  above,  he  reigns  alone  ; 
Systems  burn  out  and  leave  his  throne  ; 
Fair  mists  of  seraphs  melt  and  fall 
Around  him,  changeless  amid  all,  — 
Ancient  of  Days,  whose  days  go  on. 


Be  Profunda.  95 

By  anguish  which  made  pale  the  sun, 
1  hear  him  charge  his  saints  that  none 
Among-  his  creatures,  anywhere, 
Blaspheme  against  him  with  despair. 
However  darkly  days  go  on. 


For  us,  whatever  's  undergone, 
Thou  knowest,  wiliest  what  is  clone. 
Grief  may  be  joy  misunderstood  ; 
Only  the  Good  discerns  the  good  : 
I  trust  thee  while  my  days  go  on. 

I  praise  thee  while  my  days  go  on  ; 

I  love  thee  while  my  days  go  on  : 

Through  dark  and  dearth,  through  fire  and  frost, 

With  emptied  arms  and  treasure  lost, 

I  thank  thee  while  my  days  go  on. 


THE   TWO   ANGELS. 

Two  angels,  one  of  Life  and  one  of  Death, 
Passed  o'er  our  village  as  the  morning  broke  ; 

The  dawn  was  on  their  faces,  and  beneath, 
The  sombre  houses  hearsed  with  plumes  of 
smoke, 

Their  attitude  and  aspect  were  the  same, 

Alike  their  features  and  their  robes  of  white ; 

But  one  was  crowned  with  amaranth,  as  with 
flame, 
And  one  with  asphodels,  like  flakes  of  light. 

I  saw  them  pause  on  their  celestial  way  ; 

Then  said  I,  with  deep  fear  and   doubt  op- 
prest, 
"  Beat  not  so  loud,  my  heart,  lest  thou  betray 

The  place  where  thy  beloved  are  at  rest ! " 

And  he  who  wore  the  crown  of  asphodels, 
Descending,  at  my  door  began  to  knock, 

And  my  soul  sank  within  me,  as  in  wells 

The  waters  sink  before  an  earthquake's  shock. 


The  Two  Angels.  97 

I  recognized  the  nameless  agony. 

The  terror  and  the  tremor  and  the  pain, 

That  oft  before  had  filled  or  haunted  me, 

And    now    returned  with    threefold    strength 


The  door  I  opened  to  my  heavenly  guest. 

And  listened,   for  I  thought  I   heard    God's 
voice  ; 

And.  knowing  whatsoe'er  he  sent  was  best, 
Dared  neither  to  lament  nor  to  rejoice. 

Then  with  a  smile,  that  filled  the  house  with 
light, 

••  My  errand  is  not  Death,  but  Life,"  he  said  ; 
And  ere  I  answered,  passing  out  of  sight, 

On  his  celestial  embassy  he  sped. 

'T  was  at  thy  door,  O  friend !  and  not  at  mine, 
The  angel  with  the  amaranthine  wreath, 

Pausing,  descended,  and  with  voice  divine, 
Whispered  a  word  that  had  a  sound  like  Death. 

Then  fell  upon  the  house  a  sudden  gloom, 
A  shadow  on  those  features  fair  and  thin  ; 

And  softly,  from  that  hushed  and  darkened  room, 
Two  angels  issued,  where  but  one  went  in. 


98  The  Two  Angels. 

All  is  of  God !  If  he  but  wave  his  hand, 
The  mists  collect,  the  rain  falls  thick  and  loud 

Till,  with  a  smile  of  light  on  sea  and  land, 
Lo  !  he  looks  back  from  the  departing  cloud. 

Angels  of  Life  and  Death  alike  are  his  ; 

Without  his  leave  they  pass  no  threshold  o'er ; 
Who,  then,  would  wish,  or  dare,  believing  this, 

Against  his  messengers  to  shut  the  door  ? 


RESIGNATION. 

There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended. 

But  one  dead  lamb  is  there ! 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 

But  has  one  vacant  chair  ! 

The  air  is  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying, 

And  mournings  for  the  dead  ; 
The  heart  of  Rachel,  for  her  children  crying, 

Will  not  be  comforted  ! 

Let  us  be  patient !     These  severe  afflictions 

Not  from  the  ground  arise, 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 

Assume  this  dark  disguise. 

ce  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors  ; 
Amid  these  earthly  damps 
What  seem  to  us  but  sad.  funereal  tapers 
May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps. 


100  Resignation. 

There  is  no  Death  !    What  seems  so  is  transition  : 

This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  a  suburb  of  the  life  elysian, 

Whose  portal  we  call  Death. 

She  is  not  dead,  —  the  child  of  our  affection,  — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 
Where  she  no  longer  needs  our  poor  protection, 

And  Christ  himself  doth  rule. 

In  that  great  cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion, 

By  guardian  angels  led, 
Safe  from  temptation,  safe  from  sin's  pollution, 

She  lives,  whom  we  call  dead. 

Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing 

In  those  bright  realms  of  air ; 
Year  after  year,  her  tender  steps  pursuing, 

Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 

Thus  do  we  walk  with  her,  and  keep  unbroken 

The  bond  which  nature  gives, 
Thinking   that   our   remembrance,  though    un- 
spoken, 

May  reach  her  where  she  lives. 

Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her ; 
For  when  with  raptures  wild 


designation,  101 

In  our  embraces  we  again  enfold  her. 
She  will  not  be  a  child  : 


But  a  fair  maiden,  in  her  Father's  mansion, 

Clothed  with  celestial  grace  ; 
And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 

Shall  we  behold  her  face. 

And  though,  at  times,  impetuous  with  emotion 

And  anguish  long  suppressed, 
The    swelling   heart   heaves    moaning  like    the 
ocean, 

That  cannot  be  at  rest,  — 

We  will  be  patient,  and  assuage  the  feeling 

We  may  not  wholly  stay  ; 
By  siience  sanctifying,  not  concealing, 

The  grief  that  must  have  way. 


THE   ALPINE    SHEEP. 

When  on  my  ear  your  loss  was  knelled, 

And  tender  sympathy  upburst, 
A  little  spring  from  memory  welled, 

Which  once  had  quenched  my  bitter  thirst. 

And  I  was  fain  to  bear  to  you 

A  portion  of  its  mild  relief, 
That  it  might  be  as  cooling  dew, 

To  steal  some  fever  from  your  grief. 

After  our  child's  untroubled  breath 

Up  to  the  Father  took  its  way, 
And  on  our  home  the  shade  of  death 

Like  a  long  twilight  haunting  lay, 

And  friends  came  round,  with  us  to  weep 

Her  little  spirit's  swift  remove, 
The  story  of  the  Alpine  sheep 

Was  told  to  us  by  one  we  love. 


The  Alpine  Sheep.  103 

They,  in  the  valley's  sheltering  cure. 

Soon  crop  the  meadow's  tender  prime, 
And  when  the  sod  grows  brown  and  bare, 

The  shepherd  strives  to  make  them  climb 

To  airy  shelves  of  pasture  green. 
That  hang  along  the  mountain's  side, 

Where  grass  and  flowers  together  lean. 

And  down  through  mists  the  sunbeams  slide. 

But  nought  can  tempt  the  timid  things 
The  steep  and  rugged  path  to  try. 

Though  sweet  the  shepherd  calls  and  sings. 
And  seared  below  the  pastures  lie,  — 

Till  in  his  arms  their  lambs  he  takes, 

Along  the  dizzy  verge  to  go. 
Then.  5  of  the  rifts  and  breaks. 

They  follow  on.  o'er  rock  and  snow. 

And  in  those  pastures,  lifted  fair. 

More  dewy  soil  than  lowland  mead. 
The  shepherd  drops  his  tender  care. 

And  sheep  and  lambs  together  feed. 

This  parable,  by  Nature  breathed. 

Blew  on  me  as  the  south  wind  free 
O'er  frozen  brooks,  that  flow  unsheathed 

from  icy  thraldom  to  the  - 


104  The  Alpine  Sheep. 

A  blissful  vision,  through  the  night, 
Would  all  my  happy  senses  sway, 

Of  the  Good  Shepherd  on  the  height, 
Or  climbing  up  the  starry  way, 

Holding  our  little  lamb  asleep,  — 
While,  like  the  murmur  of  the  sea, 

Sounded  that  voice  along  the  deep, 
Saying,  "  Arise,  and  follow  me  !  " 


DEAR    FRIEND.    FAR    OFF.    MY    LOST 
DESIRE. 

Drab  friend,  far  off,  my  lost  desire. 
So  far,  so  near,  in  woe  and  weal  ; 
Oh,  loved  the  most  when  most  I  feel 

There  is  a  lower  and  a  higher  : 

Known  and  unknown.  —  human,  divine  ! 

Sweet  human  hand  and  lips  and  eye. 

Dear  heavenly  friend  that  canst  not  die, 
Mine,  mine  forever,  ever  mine  ! 

Strange  friend.  —  past,  present,  and  to  be, 
Loved  deeplier,  darklier  understood  ; 
Behold  I  dream  a  dream  of  good. 

And  mingle  all  the  world  with  thee. 

Thy  voice  is  on  the  rolling  air ; 

I  hear  thee  where  the  waters  run  ; 

Thou  standest  in  the  rising  sun. 
And  in  the  setting  thou  art  fair. 


106    Dear  Friend,  far  off)  my  lost  Desire. 

What  art  thou,  then  ?     I  cannot  guess  ; 
But  though  I  seem  in  star  and  flower 
To  feel  thee,  some  diffusive  power, 

I  do  not  therefore  love  thee  less. 

Far  off  thou  art,  but  ever  nigh  ; 

I  have  thee  still,  and  I  rejoice  ; 

I  prosper,  circled  with  thy  voice  ; 
I  shall  not  lose  thee,  though  I  die. 


THE   PAST. 

Thou  unrelenting  Past ! 
Strong  are  the  barriers  round  thy  dark  domain, 

And  fetters,  sure  and  fast, 
Hold  all  that  enter  thy  nnbreathing  reign. 

Far  in  thy  realm  withdrawn. 
Old  empires  sit  in  sullenness  and  gloom, 

And  glorious  ages  gone 
Lie  deep  within  the  shadow  of  thy  womb. 

Childhood,  with  all  its  mirth, 
Youth.    Manhood,  Age,  that   draws   us   to  the 
ground, 

And  last.  Man's  Life  on  earth. 
Glide  to  thy  dim  dominions,  and  are  bound. 

Thou  hast  my  better  years, 
Thou  hast  my  earlier  friends,  the  good,  the  kind, 

Yielded  to  thee  with  tears,  — 
The  venerable  form,  the  exalted  mind. 


108  The  Past 

My  spirit  yearns  to  bring 
The  lost  ones  back,  —  yearns  with  desire  intense, 

And  struggles  hard  to  wring 
Thy  bolts  apart,  and  pluck  thy  captives  thence. 

In  vain  :  thy  gates  deny 
All  passage  save  to  those  who  hence  depart ; 

Nor  to  the  streaming  eye 
Thou  giv'st  them  back,  nor  to  the  broken  heart. 

In  thy  abysses  hide 
Beauty  and  excellence  unknown ;  to  thee 

Earth's  wonder  and  her  pride 
Are  gathered,  as  the  waters  to  the  sea ; 

Labors  of  good  to  man, 
Unpublished  charity,  unbroken  faith ; 

Love,  that  midst  grief  began, 
And  grew  with  years,  and  faltered  not  in  death. 

Full  many  a  mighty  name 
Lurks  in  thy  depths,  unuttered,  unrevered  ; 

With  thee  are  silent  fame, 
Forgotten  arts,  and  wisdom  disappeared. 

Thine  for  a  space  are  they  : 
Yet  shalt  thou  yield  thy  treasures  up  at  last ; 

Thy  gates  shall  yet  give  way, 
Thy  bolts  shall  fall,  inexorable  Past  ! 


Tlic  Past.  109 

All  that  of  good  and  fair 
Has  gone  into  thy  womb  from  earliest  time, 

Shall  then  come  forth  to  wear 
The  glory  and  the  beauty  of  its  prime. 

They  have  not  perished ;  no ! 
Kind  words,  remembered  voices  once  so  sweet, 

Smiles,  radiant  long  ago, 
And  features,  the  great  soul's  apparent  seat,  — 

All  shall  come  back  :  each  tie 
Of  pure  affection  shall  be  knit  again  ; 

Alone  shall  Evil  die, 
And  Sorrow  dwell  a  prisoner  in  thy  reign. 

And  then  shall  I  behold 
Him.  by  whose  kind  paternal  side  I  sprung, 

And  her,  who,  still  and  cold, 
FHls  the  next  grave.  —  the  beautiful  and  young. 


8 


FOOTSTEPS   OF    ANGELS. 

When  the  hours  of  day  are  numbered, 

And  the  voices  of  the  night 
Wake  the  better  soul,  that  slumbered, 

To  a  holy,  calm  delight ; 

Ere  the  evening  lamps  are  lighted, 
And,  like  phantoms  grim  and  tall, 

Shadows  from  the  fitful  firelight 
Dance  upon  the  parlor  wall ; 

Then  the  forms  of  the  departed 

Enter  at  the  open  door  ; 
The  beloved,  the  true-hearted, 

Come  to  visit  me  once  more. 

He,  the  young  and  strong,  who  cherished 
Xoble  longings  for  the  strife, 

By  the  roadside  fell  and  perished, 
Weary  with  the  march  of  life. 


Footsteps  of  Angels.  Ill 

They,  the  holy  ones  and  weakly, 
Who  the  cross  of  suffering  bore, 

Folded  their  pale  hands  so  meekly, 
Spake  with  us  on  earth  no  more. 

And  with  them  the  being  beauteous, 

Who  unto  my  youth  was  given, 
More  than  all  things  else  to  love  me, 

And  is  now  a  saint  in  heaven. 

With  a  slow  and  noiseless  footstep 

Comes  that  messenger  divine, 
Takes  the  vacant  chair  beside  me, 

Lays  her  gentle  hand  in  mine. 

And  she  sits  and  gazes  at  me 

AVith  those  deep  and  tender  eyes, 

Like  the  stars,  so  still  and  saintlike, 
Looking  downward  from  the  skies. 

Uttered  not,  yet  comprehended, 

Is  the  spirit's  voiceless  prayer, 
Soft  rebukes,  in  blessings  ended, 

Breathing  from  her  lips  of  air. 

Oh.  though  oft  depressed  and  lonely, 

All  my  fears  are  laid  aside, 
If  I  but  remember  only 

Such  as  these  have  lived  and  died  ! 


AN  ANGEL  IN  THE   HOUSE. 

How  sweet  it  were  if,  without  feeble  fright, 

Or  dying  of  the  dreadful  beauteous  sight, 

An  angel  came  to  us,  and  we  could  bear 

To  see  him  issue  from  the  silent  air 

At  evening  in  our  room,  and  bend  on  ours 

His  divine  eyes,  and  bring  us  from  his  bowers 

News  of  dear  friends,  and  children  who  have 

never 
Been  dead  indeed,  —  as  we  shall  know  forever. 
Alas !  we  think  not  what  we  daily  see 
About  our  hearths,  angels,  that  are  to  be, 
Or  may  be  if  they  will,  and  we  prepare 
Their  souls  and  ours  to  meet  in  happy  air,  — 
A  child,  a  friend,  a  wife  whose  soft  heart  sings 
In  unison  with  ours,  breeding  its  future  wings. 


RE   NEAB   ME  WHEN  MY  LIGHT  IS  LOW. 

Be  near  me  when  my  light  is  low, 

When  the  blood  creeps,  and  the  nerves  prick 
And  tingle  ;  and  the  heart  is  sick, 

And  all  the  wheels  of  Being  slow. 

Be  near  me  when  the  sensuous  frame 
Is  racked  with  pangs  that  conquer  trust ; 
And  Time,  a  maniac  scattering  dust. 

And  Life,  a  Fury  slinging  flame. 

Be  near  me  when  my  faith  is  dry. 
And  men  the  flies  of  latter  spring, 
That  lav  their  eggs,  and  sting  and  sin<j, 

And  weave  their  petty  cells,  and  die. 

Be  near  me  when  I  fade  away. 

To  point  the  term  of  human  strife, 
And  on  the  low  dark  verge  of  life 

The  twilight  of  eternal  day. 


DO  WE  INDEED  DESIRE   THE  DEAD? 

Do  we  indeed  desire  the  dead 

Should  still  be  near  us  at  our  side  ? 
Is  there  no  baseness  we  would  hide  ? 

No  inner  vileness  that  we  dread  ? 

Shall  he  for  whose  applause  I  strove,  x — 
I  had  such  reverence  for  his  blame,  — 
See  with  clear  eyes  some  hidden  shame, 

And  I  be  lessened  in  his  love  ? 

I  wrong  the  grave  with  fears  untrue : 
Shall  love  be  blamed  for  want  of  faith  ? 
There  must  be  wisdom  with  great  Death  : 

The  dead  shall  look  me  through  and  through. 

Be  near  us  when  we  climb  or  fall : 
Ye  watch,  like  God,  the  rolling  hours 
With  larger,  other  eyes  than  ours, 

To  make  allowance  for  us  all. 


—  Not  for  that  ice  would  be  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon,  thai 
mortality  wight  bt  twaUowed  up  of  life. — 2  Cob.  ii.  4. 

In  health,  O  Lord,  and  prosperous  days, 
When  worldly  wealth  or  worldly  praise, 
When  worldly  thoughts  have  filled  our  heart, 
We  would  not  from  the  body  part ; 
And  then  the  very  thought  is  loathed, 
That  we  must  be  by  death  unclothed. 

In  sickness,  sorrow,  or  in  shame, 
We  fain  would  quit  this  mortal  frame  ; 
But  thus  to  shrink  from  toil  and  pain, 
This  is  not  longing  for  thy  reign: 
Brought  low,  we  only  seek  to  be 
Unclothed,  not  clothed  upon  by  thee. 

( )  rather  help  us  as  we  ought 

To  feel  what  thine  Apostle  taught,  — 

That  not  for  aye  we  seek  to  wear 

This  form  of  clay,  corruption's  heir, 

Nor  yet  impatient  ask  alone 

T<>  be  unclothed,  but  clothed  upon  ! 


THE   SICK   ROOM. 

Watching,  through  the  silent  hours, 

By  the  unrefreshed  bed, 
Where  disease  arrays  his  powers, 

Whence  repose  is  banished, 
Where  time  halteth,  sad  and  slow, 
Thou  art  with  me,  Lord,  I  know. 

When  the  vital  forces  seem 
Dwindled  to  as  faint  a  spark 

As  the  taper's  sickly  gleam, 

Making  darkness  doubly  dark,  — 

Lord  !  I  bless  thee  that  thou  art 

Near,  to  stay  the  sinking  heart. 

When  the  flame,  reviving,  burns 
Gently,  and  at  sleep's  soft  touch 

Anguish  yields,  and  hope  returns, 
Dove-like,  to  the  smoothed  couch,  — 

With  an  anxious  deep-drawn  sigh, 

Lord,  I  praise  thee,  ever  nigh. 


The  sick  Roam.  117 

In  the  dim  religious  gloom, 

Where  'expressive  silence'  broods 

O'er  the  closely  curtained  room, 
Nor  a  stirring  breath  intrudes,  — 

As  in  silent  prayer  I  kneel, 

Thou  art  present,  Lord,  I  feel. 

When  reluctant  hope  is  fled, 
When  the  pulses  beat  no  more, 

And  the  last  farewell  is  said, 
And  the  war  of  life  is  o'er,  — 

Lord,  both  the  spirit  and  the  dust 

Of  our  beloved,  to  thee  we  trust. 


WHOLESOME   MEMORIES   OF   PAIN. 

Who  that  a  watcher  doth  remain 
Beside  a  couch  of  mortal  pain, 
Deems  he  can  ever  smile  again  ? 

Or  who  that  weeps  beside  a  bier, 

Counts  he  has  any  more  to  fear 

From  the  world's  flatteries,  false  and  leer  ? 

And  yet  anon,  and  he  doth  start 
At  the  light  toys  in  which  his  heart 
Can  now  already  claim  its  part. 

O  hearts  of  ours,  so  weak  and  poor, 
That  nothing  there  can  long  endure  ! 
And  so  their  hurts  find  shameful  cure  ; 

While  every  sadder,  wiser  thought, 
Each  holier  aim  which  sorrow  brought, 
Fades  quite  away  and  comes  to  nought. 


Wholesome  Memories  of  Pain.       119 

0  Thou  who  dost  our  weakness  know. 
Watch  for  us,  that  the  strong  hours  so 
Not  wean  us  from  our  wholesome  woe. 

Grant  thou  that  we  may  long  retain 
The  wholesome  memories  of  pain, 
Nor  wish  to  lose  them  soon  a^ain. 


THE  DAY   OF  DEATH. 

Thou  inevitable  day, 

When  a  voice  to  me  shall  say, 

"  Thou  must  rise  and  come  away ; 

"  All  thine  other  journeys  past, 
Gird  thee,  and  make  ready  fast 
For  thy  longest  and  thy  last ; "  — 

Day  deep-hidden  from  our  sight 

In  impenetrable  night, 

Who  may  guess  of  thee  aright? 

Art  thou  distant,  art  thou  near  ? 
Wilt  thou  seem  more  dark  or  clear  ? 
Day  with  more  of  hope  or  fear  ? 

Wilt  thou  come,  not  seen  before 
Thou  art  standing  at  the  door, 
Saying  —  Light  and  life  are  o'er? 


The  Day  of  Death.  121 

Or  with  such  a  gradual  pace 
As  shall  leave  me  largest  space 
To  regard  thee  face  to  face  ? 

Shall  I  lay  my  drooping  head 

On  some  loved  lap  ;  round  my  bed 

Prayer  be  made,  and  tears  be  shed  ? 

Or  at  distance  from  mine  own, 
Name  and  kin  alike  unknown. 
Make  my  solitary  moan  ? 

Will  there  yet  be  things  to  leave, 
Hearts  to  which  this  heart  must  cleave. 
From  which,  parting,  it  must  grieve  ; 

Or  shall  life's  best  ties  be  o'er, 
And  all  loved  things  gone  before 
To  that  other  happier  shore? 

Shall  I  gently  fall  on  sleep, 
Death,  like  slumber,  o'er  me  creep, 
Like  a  slumber  sweet  and  deep  ? 

Or  the  soul  long  strive  in  vain 
To  get  free,  with  toil  and  pain, 
From  its  half-divided  chain  ? 


122  The  Day  of  Death. 

Little  skills  it  where  or  how, 
If  thou  comest  then  or  now, 
With  a  smooth  or  angry  brow  ; 

Come  thou  must,  and  we  must  die : 
Jesus,  Saviour,  stand  thou  by, 
When  that  last  sleep  seals  our  eye. 


THE  CLOUD    OX   THE  WAY. 

See  before  us  in  our  journey  broods  a  mist  upon 

the  ground ; 
Thither  leads  the  path  we  walk  in,  blending  with 

that  gloomy  bound  : 
Never  eye  hath  pierced  its  shadows  to  the  mys- 
tery they  screen  ; 
Those  who    once  have  passed  within  it  never 

more  on  earth  are  seen. 
Now  it  seems  to  stoop  beside  us,  now  at  seeming 

distance  lowers, 
Leaving  banks  that  tempt  us  onward  bright  with 

summer-green  and  flowers  : 
Yet  it  blots  the  way  forever ;  there  our  journey 

ends  at  last ; 
Into  that  dark  cloud  we  enter,  and  are  gathered 

to  the  past 

Thou  who,  in  this  flinty  pathway,  leading  through 

a  stranger-land, 
Passest  clown  the  rocky  valley,  walking  with  me 

hand-in-hand, 


124  Tlte  Cloud  on  the  Way. 

Which  of  us  shall  be  the  soonest  folded  to  that 
dim  Unknown  ? 

Which  shall  leave  the  other  walking  in  this  flinty 
path  alone  ? 

Even  now  I  see  thee  shudder,  and  thy  cheek  is 
white  with  fear, 

And  thou  clingest  to  my  side  as  comes  that  dark- 
ness sweeping  near. 

"  Here,"  thou  sayst,  "  the  path  is  rugged,  sown 
with  thorns  that  wound  the  feet ; 

But  the  sheltered  glens  are  lovely,  and  the  rivu- 
let's song  is  sweet ; 

Roses  breathe  from  tangled  thickets  ;  lilies  bend 
from  ledges  brown ; 

Pleasantly  between  the  pelting  showers  the  sun- 
shine gushes  down  ; 

Dear  are  those  who  walk  beside  us,  they  whose 
looks  and  voices  make 

All  this  rugged  region  cheerful,  till  I  love  it  for 
their  sake. 

Far  be  yet  the  hour  that  takes  me  where  that 
chilly  shadow  lies, 

From  the  things  I  know  and  love,  and  from  the 
sight  of  loving  eyes." 

So  thou  murmurest,   fearful  one :  but  see,  we 

tread  a  rougher  way  ; 
Fainter  glow  the  gleams  of  sunshine  that  upon 

the  dark  rocks  play  ; 


The  Cloud  on  the  Way.  125 

Rude  winds  strew  the  faded  flowers  upon  the 
crags  o'er  which  we  pass  ; 

Banks  of  verdure,  when  we  reach  them,  hiss  with 
tufts  of  withered  grass. 

One  by  one  we  miss  the  voices  which  we  loved 
so  well  to  hear ; 

One  by  one  the  kindly  faces  in  that  shadow  dis- 
appear. 

Yet  upon  the  mist  before  us  fix  thine  eyes  with 

closer  view : 
See.  beneath  its  sullen  skirts,  the  rosy  morning 

glimmers  through. 
One  whose  feet  the  thorns  have  wounded,  passed 

that  barrier  and  came  back, 
With  a  glory  on  his  footsteps  lighting  yet  the 

dreary  track. 
Boldly  enter  where  lie  entered ;  all  that   seems 

but  darkness  here, 
When  thou   once  hast  passed  beyond  it,  haply 

shall  be  crystal-clear. 
Viewed  from  that  serener  realm,  the  walks   of 

human  life  may  lie. 
Like  the  page  of  some  familiar  volume,  open  to 

thine  e\ 
Haply,  from  the  overhanging  shadow,  thou  mayst 

stretch  an  unseen  hand. 
To  support  the  wavering  steps  that  paint  with 

blood  the  rugged  land. 
8 


126  The  Cloud  on  the  Way. 

Haply,  leaning  o'er   the  pilgrim,  all  unweeting 

thou  art  near, 
Thou  mayst  whisper   words  of   warning  or  of 

comfort  in  his  ear, 
Till,  beyond  the    border  where    that  brooding 

mystery  bars  the  sight, 
Those  whom  thou  hast  fondly  cherished  stand 

with  thee  in  peace  and  light. 


THE   BORDER-LANDS. 

Father,  into  thy  loving  hands 

My  feeble  spirit  I  commit. 
While  wandering  in  these  Border-Lands 

Until  thy  voice  shall  summon  it. 

Father.  I  would  not  dare  to  choose 
A  longer  life,  an  earlier  death  ; 

I  know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 
By  shortened  or  protracted  breath. 

These  Border-Lands  are  calm  and  still. 

And  solemn  are  their  silent  shades; 
And  my  heart  welcomes  them,  until 

The  light  of  life's  lon<^  evening  fades. 

I      tard  them  spoken  of  with  dread. 
As  fearful  and  unquiet  places, — 

shades,  where  the  living  and  the  dead 

Look  sully  in  each  other's  fa 


128  The  Border-Lands. 

But  since  thy  hand  hath  led  me  here, 
And  I  have  seen  the  Border-Land,  — 

Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near,     . 
Stood  on  its  brink,  as  now  I  stand,  — 

There  has  been  nothing  to  alarm 

My  trembling  soul ;  how  could  I  fear 

While  thus  encircled  with  thine  arm  ? 
I  never  felt  thee  half  so  near. 

What  should  appall  me  in  a  place 

That  brings  me  hourly  nearer  thee  ?  — ■ 

When  I  may  almost  see  thy  face  ! 
Surely  't  is  here  my  soul  would  be. 

They  say  the  waves  are  dark  and  deep, 
That  faith  has  perished  in  the  river  ; 

They  speak  of  death  with  fear,  and  weep. 
Shall  my  soul  perish  ?     Never,  never  ! 

I  know  that  thou  wilt  never  leave 

The  soul  that  trembles  while  it  clings 

To  thee :  I  know  thou  wilt  achieve 
Its  passage  on  thine  outspread  wings. 

And  since  I  first  was  brought  so  near 
The  stream  that  flows  to  the  Dead  Sea, 

I  think  that  it  has  grown  more  clear 
And  shallow  than  it  used  to  be. 


The  Border-Lands.  129 

I  cannot  see  the  golden  gate 

Unfolding  yet  to  welcome  me ; 
I  cannot  yet  anticipate 

The  joy  of  heaven's  jubilee. 

But  I  will  calmly  watch  and  pray, 

Until  I  hear  my  Saviour's  voice, 
Calling  my  happy  soul  away 

To  see  his  glory,  and  rejoice. 


THE   TRUE   LIGHT. 

To  thee,  to  all,  my  sinking  voice, 

-Beloved !  would  fain  once  more  proclaim, 
In  Christ  alone  may  those  rejoice 

Deceived  by  every  other  name. 

In  all  but  Him  our  sins  have  been, 

And  wanderings  dark  of  doubtful  mind ; 

In  Him  alone  on  earth  is  seen 

God's  perfect  will  for  all  mankind. 

The  shadows  round  me  close  and  press, 
But  still  that  radiant  orb  I  see, 

And  more  I  seem  its  light  to  bless 

Than  aught  near  worlds  could  give  to  me. 

* 
As  light  and  warmth  to  noontide  hours, 

To  sweetest  voices  tuneful  songs, 

And  as  to  summer  fields  the  flowers, 

So  heaven  to  heavenly  souls  belongs. 


DUST   TO    DUST. 

On  blessing,  wearing  semblance  of  a  curse. 

We  fear  thee,  thon  stern  sentence  ;  yet  to  be 
Linked  to  immortal  bodies,  were  far  worse 
Than  thus  to  be  set  free. 

For  mingling  with  the  life-blood,  through  each 

vein 
The  venom  of  the  Serpent's  bite  has  run, 
And  only  thus  might  be  expelled  again,  — 

Thus  only  health  be  won. 

Shall  we  not  then  a  gracious  sentence  own, 

Now  since  the  leprosy  has  fretted  through 
The  entire  house,  that  Thou  wilt  take  it  down. 
And  build  it  all  anew  ? 

Build  it  this  time,  since  Thou  wilt  build  again. 

An  holy  house  where  righteousness  may  dwell ; 
And  we.  though  in  the  unbuilding  there  be  pain, 
Will  still  affirm.  — T  is  well. 


THE  ILLUSION   OF  LIFE. 

Mysterious  Night !    when   our  first  parent 
knew 
Thee,  from  report  divine,  and  heard  thy  name, 
Did  he  not  tremble  for  this  lovely  frame, 
This  glorious  canopy  of  light  and  blue  ? 
Yet  'neath  a  curtain  of  translucent  dew, 

Bathed  in  the  rays  of  the  great  setting  flame, 
Hesperus  with  the  host  of  heaven  came, 
And  lo  !  creation  widened  in  man's  view. 
Who  could  have  thought  such  darkness  lay 
concealed 
Within  thy  beams,  0  Sun  ?  or  who  could  find, 
Whilst  fly  and  leaf  and  insect  stood  revealed, 
That  to  such  countless   orbs  thou  macl'st  us 
blind? 
Why   do    we,    then,    shun  death   with   anxious 

strife  ? 
If  light  can  thus  deceive,  wherefore  not  life  ? 


THE   FUTURE   LIFE. 

How  shall  I  know  thee  in  the  sphere  which  keeps 
The  disembodied  spirits  of  the  dead. 

When  all  of  thee  that  time  could  wither  sleeps, 
And  perishes  among  the  dust  we  tread  ? 

For  I  shall  feel  the  sting  of  ceaseless  pain, 
If  there  I  meet  thy  gentle  presence  not ; 

Nor  hear  the  voice  I  love,  nor  read  a^ain 
In  thy  serenest  eyes  the  tender  thought. 

Will  not  thy  own  meek  heart  demand  me  there  ? 

That  heart  whose  fondest  throbs  to  me  were 
given  ? 
My  name  on  earth  was  ever  in  thy  prayer, 

And  must  thou  never  utter  it  in  heaven  ? 

In   meadows   fanned  by  heaven's  life-breathing 
wind. 

In  the  resplendence  of  that  glorious  sphere, 
And  larger  movements  of  the  unfettered  mind, 

Wilt  thou  forget  the  love  that  joined  us  here  ? 


134  The  Future  Life. 

The  love  that  lived  through  all  the  stormy  past, 
And  meekly  with  my  harsher  nature  bore, 

And  deeper  grew,  and  tenderer  to  the  last, 
Shall  it  expire  with  life,  and  be  no  more  ? 

A  happier  lot  than  mine,  and  larger  light, 

Await  thee  there  ;  for  thou  hast  bowed  thy  will 

In  cheerful  homage  to  the  rule  of  right, 
And  lovest  all,  and  renderest  good  for  ill. 

For  me,  the  sordid  cares  in  which  I  dwell 

Shrink  and  consume  my  heart,  as  heat  the 
scroll ; 

And  wrath  has  left  its  scar,  —  that  fire  of  hell 
Has  left  its  frightful  scar  upon  my  soul. 

Yet  though  thou  wear'st  the  glory  of  the  sky, 
Wilt  thou  not  keep  the  same  beloved  name, 

The  same  fair  thoughtful  brow,  and  gentle  eye, 
Lovelier  in  heaven's  sweet  climate,  yet   the 
same  ? 

Shalt  thou  not  teach  me,  in  that  calmer  home, 
The  wisdom  that  I  learned  so  ill  in  this,  — 

The  wisdom  which  is  love,  —  till  I  become 
Thy  fit  companion  in  that  land  of  bliss  ? 


THE    RETURN    OF   YOUTH. 

My  friend,  thou  sorrowest  for  thy  golden  prime, 
For  thy  fair  youthful  years,  too  swift  of  flight ; 
Thou  musest,  with  wet  eyes,  upon  the  time 
Of  cheerful  hopes  that  filled  the  world  with 
light,— 
Years  when  thy  heart  was  bold,  thy  hand  was 
strong, 
And  quick  the  thought  that  moved  thy  tongue 
to  speak, 
And  willing  faith  was  thine,  and  scorn  of  wrong 
Summoned  the  sudden  crimson  to  thy  cheek. 

Thou  lookest  forward  on  the  coming  days, 

Shuddering    to   feel   their    shadow    o'er    thee 
creep  ; 
A  path,  thick-set  with  changes  and  decays, 

Slopes    downward    to    the   place    of  common 
sleep  ; 
And   they  who  walked  with   thee   in   life's  first 
stage 
Leave  one  by  one  thy  side.  and.  waiting  near. 


136  Tlie  Return  of  Youth. 

Thou  seest  the  sad  companions  of  thy  age,  — 
Dull  love  of  rest,  and  weariness,  and  fear. 

Yet  grieve  thou  not,  nor  think  thy  youth  is  gone, 
Nor  deem  that  glorious  season  e'er  could  die ; 
Thy  pleasant  youth,  a  little  while  withdrawn, 

Waits  on  the  horizon  of  a  brighter  sky  ; 
Waits,  like  the  morn,  that  folds  her  wing  and 
hides, 
Till  the  slow  stars  bring  back  her  dawning 
hour  ; 
Waits,  like  the  vanished  spring,  that  slumbering 
bides 
Her  own  sweet  time  to  waken  bud  and  flower. 

There  shall  he  welcome  thee,  when  thou  shalt 
stand 

On  his  bright  morning  hills,  with  smiles  more 
sweet 
Than  when  at  first  he  took  thee  by  the  hand, 

Through  the  fair  earth  to  lead  thy  tender  feet. 
He  shall  bring  back,  but  brighter,  broader  still, 

Life's  early  glory  to  thine  eyes  again,  — 
Shall  clothe  thy  spirit  with  new  strength,  and  fill 

Thy  leaping  heart  with  warmer  love  than  then. 

Hast  thou  not  glimpses,  in  the  twilight  here, 
Of  mountains  where  immortal  morn  prevails  ? 


TJie  Return  of  Youth.  137 

Comes  there   not,  through  the  silence,  to  thine 
ear 

A  gentle  rustling  of  the  morning  gales? 
A  murmur,  wafted  from  that  glorious  shore, 

Of  streams  that  water  banks  forever  fair, 
And  voices  of  the  loved  ones  gone  before, 

More  musical  in  that  celestial  air  ? 


SUBMISSION. 

Thy  will  be  done  !     I  will  not  fear 

The  fate  provided  by  thy  love  ; 
Though  clouds  and  darkness  shroud  me  here, 

I  know  that  all  is  bright  above. 

The  stars  of  heaven  are  shining  on, 

Though  these  frail  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears; 
And  though  the  hopes  of  earth  be  gone, 

Yet  are  not  ours  the  immortal  years  ? 

Father  !  forgive  the  heart  that  clings, 
Thus  trembling,  to  the  things  of  time  ; 

And  bid  the  soul,  on  angel  wings, 
Ascend  into  a  purer  clime. 

There  shall  no  doubts  disturb  its  trust, 

No  sorrows  dim  celestial  love ; 
But  these  afflictions  of  the  dust, 

Like  shadows  of  the  night,  remove. 


WORK. 

Tiiou  hast,  midst  Life's  empty  noises, 

Heard  the  solemn  steps  of  Time, 
And  the  low  mysterious  voices 
Of  another  clime. 

All  the  mystery  of  Being 

Hath  upon  thy  spirit  pressed  ; 
Thoughts  which,  like  the  deluge-wanderer, 
Find  no  place  of  rest. 

From  the  doubt  and  darkness  springing 

Of  the  dim.  uncertain  Past, 
Moving  to  the  dark  still  shadows 
(  Per  the  Future  cast. 

Early  hath  Life's  mighty  question 

Thrilled  within  thy  heart  of  youth, 
With  a  deep  and  strong  beseeching. — 
What,  and  where,  is  Truth  ? 


140  Work. 

And  to  thee  an  answer  cometh 

From  the  earth  and  from  the  sky, 
And  to  thee  the  hills  and  waters, 
And  the  stars  reply. 

But  a  soul-sufficing  answer 
Hath  no  outward  origin  ; 
More  than  Nature's  many  voices 
May  be  heard  within. 

Not  to  ease  and  aimless  quiet 

Doth  that  inward  answer  tend ; 
But  to  works  of  love  and  duty, 
As  our  being's  end. 

Earnest  toil  and  strong  endeavor 

Of  a  spirit  which  within 
Wrestles  with  familiar  evil 
And  besetting  sin  ; 


And  without,  with  tireless  vigor, 

Steady  heart,  and  weapon  strong, 
In   the  power  of  truth  assailing 
Every  form  of  wrong. 


WORK. 

What  are  we  set  on  earth  for?     Say,  to  toil ; 

Nor  seek  to  leave  thy  tending  of  the  vines, 

Tor  all  the  heat  o'  the  day,  till  it  declines, 

And  Death's  mild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoil. 

God  did  anoint  thee  with  his  odorous  oil, 

To  wrestle,  not  to  reign ;  and  He  assigns 

All  thy  tears  over,  like  pure  crystallines, 

For  younger  fellow-workers  of  the  soil 

To  wear  for  amulets.      So  others  shall 

Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand, 

From  thy  hand,  and  thy  heart,  and   thy  brave 

cheer, 
And  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee  to  all. 
The  least  flower,  with  B  brimming  cup  may  stand, 
And  share  its  dew-drop  with  another  near. 

10 


EMPLOYMENT. 

If  as  a  flower  doth  spread  and  die, 
Thou  wouldst  extend  to  me  some  good, 
Before  I  were  by  frost's  extremity 
Nipt  in  the  bud, 

The  sweetness  and  the  praise  were  thine, 
But  the  extension  and  the  room, 
Which  in  thy  garland  I  should  fill,  were  mine 
At  thy  great  doom. 

For  as  thou  dost  impart  thy  grace, 
The  greater  shall  our  glory  be  : 
The  measure  of  our  joys  is  in  this  place, 
The  stuff  wTith  thee. 

Let  me  not  languish  then,  and  spend 
A  life  as  barren  to  thy  praise 
As  is  the  dust  to  which  that  life  doth  tend, 
But  with  delays. 


Employment,  143 

All  things  are  busy  ;  only  I 
Neither  bring  honey  with  the  bees, 
Nor  flowers  to  make  that,  nor  the  husbandry 
To  water  these. 

I  am  no  link  of  thy  great  chain, 
But  all  my  company  is  a  weed : 
Lord,  place  me  in  thy  concert,  give  one  strain 
To  my  poor  reed  ! 


THE  SAME  DULL  TASK  AND  WEARY 
WAY. 

Day  after  day,  until  to-day, 

Imaged  its  fellows  gone  before ; 

The  same  dull  task,  the  weary  way, 
The  weakness  pardoned  o'er  and  o'er ; 

The  thwarted  thirst,  too  faintly  felt, 
For  joy's  wellnigh  forgotten  life ; 

The  impatient  heart,  which,  when  I  knelt, 
Made  of  my  worship  barren  strife. 

Ah,  whence  to-day's  so  sweet  release  ? 

This  clearance  light  of  all  my  care ; 
This  conscience  free,  this  fertile  peace, 

These  softly  folded  wings  of  prayer ; 

This  calm  and  more  than  conquering  love, 
With  which  the  tempter  dares  not  cope  ; 

This  joy  that  lifts  no  glance  above, 
For  faith  too  sure,  too  sweet  for  hope  ? 


J 


The  same  dull  Taslc  and  weary  Way.     145 

Oh,  happy  time,  too  happy  change, 
It  will  not  live,  though  fondly  nursed ! 

Sweet  Day,  which  soon  will  seem  as  strange 
As  now  the  Night  which  seems  dispersed ! 

Adieu  !     But,  while  my  heart  is  warmed, 
Some  heavenly  promise  let  me  make : 

Strong  are  those  vows,  and  well  performed, 
Which  at  such  times  we  undertake. 


IMPERFECTION    OF    HUMAN    SYMPATHY 

Why  should  we  faint  and  fear  to  live  alone, 
Since  all  alone  —  so  Heaven  has  willed — we 
die, 
Nor  even  the  tenderest  heart,  and  next  our  own, 
Knows   half  the   reasons  why  we  smile  and 
sigh  ? 

Each  in  his  hidden  sphere  of  joy  or  woe, 
Our  hermit  spirits  dwell,  and  range  apart ; 

Our  eyes  see  all  around,  in  gloom  or  glow, 
Hues  of  their  own,  fresh  borrowed  from  the 
heart. 

And  well  it  is  for  us  our  God  should  feel 
Alone  our  secret  throbbings :  so  our  prayer 

May  readier  spring  to  Heaven,  nor  spend  its  zeal 
On  cloud-born  idols  of  this  lower  air. 

For  if  one  heart  in  perfect  sympathy 

Beat  with  another,  answering  love  for  love, 

Weak  mortals  all  entranced  on  earth  would  lie, 
Nor  listen  for  those  purer  strains  above. 


Imperfection  of  Human  Sympathy.     147 

Or  what  if  Heaven  for  once  its  searching  light 
Lent  to  some  partial  eye,  disclosing  all 

The  rude,  bad  thoughts  that  in  our  bosom's  night 
Wander  at  large,  nor  heed  love's  gentle  thrall  ? 

Who  would  not  shun  the  dreary,  uncouth  place  ? 

As  if,  fond  leaning  where  her  infant  slept, 
A  mother's  arm  a  serpent  should  embrace : 

So  might  we  friendless  live,  and  die  unwept. 

Then  keep  the  softening  veil  in  mercy  drawn, 
Thou  who  canst  love  us  though  thou  read  us 
true ; 

As  on  the  bosom  of  the  aerial  lawn 

Melts  in  dim  haze  each  coarse,  ungentle  hue. 

Thou  know'st  our  bitterness  ;  our  joys  are  thine  ; 

No  stranger  thou  to  all  our  wanderings  wild  : 
Nor  could  we  bear  to  think,  how  every  line 

Of  us,  thy  darkened  likeness  and  defiled, 

Stands  in  full  sunshine  of  thy  piercing  eye, 

But  that  thou  call'st  us  Brethren  :  sweet  repose 
Is  in  that  word :  the  Lord  who  dwells  on  high 

o 

Knows  all,  yet  loves  us  better  than  he  knows. 


STRUGGLE  NOT   WITH   THY   LIFE. 

Struggle  not  with  thy  life  !  The  heavy  doom 
Resist  not ;  it  will  bow  thee  like  a  slave  : 

Strive  not !  thou  shalt  not  conquer  ;  to  thy  tomb 
Thou  shalt  go  crushed,  and  ground,  though 
ne'er  so  brave. 

Complain  not  of  thy  life  !     For  what  art  thou 
More  than  thy  fellows,  that  thou  shouldst  not 
weep  ? 
Brave  thoughts  still  lodge  beneath  a  furrowed 
brow, 
And  the  way-wearied  have  the  sweetest  sleep. 


Marvel  not  at  thy  life !     Patience  shall  see 
The  perfect  work  of  wisdom  to  her  given  ; 

Hold  fast  thy  soul  through  this  high  mystery, 
And  it  shall  lead  thee  to  the  gates  of  heaven. 


STILL  HOPE!    STILL  ACT! 

Still  hope  !  still  act !    Be  sure  that  life, 
The  source  and  strength  of  every  good, 

TVastes  down  in  feeling's  empty  strife, 
And  dies  in  dreaming's  sickly  mood. 

To  toil,  in  tasks  however  mean, 

For  all  we  know  of  right  and  true,  — 

In  this  alone  our  worth  is  seen, 
'T  is  this  we  were  ordained  to  do. 

So  shalt  thou  find  in  work  and  thought 
The  peace  that  sorrow  cannot  give  ; 

Though  grief's  worst  pangs  to  thee  be  taught, 
By  thee  let  others  nobler  live. 

Oh,  wail  not  in  the  darksome  forest, 
Where  thou  must  needs  be  left  alone, 

But,  e'en  when  memory  is  sorest, 
Seek  out  a  path,  and  journey  on  ! 


STRUGGLE  NOT   WITH   THY   LIFE. 

Struggle  not  with  thy  life  !  The  heavy  doom 
Resist  not ;  it  will  bow  thee  like  a  slave  : 

Strive  not !  thou  shalt  not  conquer  ;  to  thy  tomb 
Thou  shalt  go  crushed,  and  ground,  though 
ne'er  so  brave. 

Complain  not  of  thy  life  !     For  what  art  thou 
More  than  thy  fellows,  that  thou  shouldst  not 
weep  ? 
Brave  thoughts  still  lodge  beneath  a  furrowed 
brow, 
And  the  way-wearied  have  the  sweetest  sleep. 

Marvel  not  at  thy  life  !     Patience  shall  see 
The  perfect  work  of  wisdom  to  her  given  ; 

Hold  fast  thy  soul  through  this  high  mystery, 
And  it  shall  lead  thee  to  the  gates  of  heaven. 


STILL  BOPE!   STILL  A<  Tl 

B  rare  thai 

Tin  jth  of  every  good, 

ling's  em]  I 
And  dies  in  dreaming's  siekly  m 

il.  in  ta^k>  bo  an. 

.ill  we  know  of  right  and  true, — 
In  tl.  i mr  worth  is  seen, 

retained  to  do. 

Jt  thou  find  in  work  and  tin 

Hie  peace  that  sorrow  cann 

thee  let  others  nobler  I 

oil.  wail  not  in  the  darksom 

Where  thou  must  needs  1><*  left  al 
when  memory 

.  out  a  path,  and  joiinn  • 


152  Still  Hope !  Still  Act ! 

Thou  wilt  have  angels  near  above, 
By  whom  invisible  aid  is  given : 

They  journey  still  on  tasks  of  love, 
And  never  rest,  except  in  heaven. 


Chi  ha  travaglio,  in  pace  il  porti  ! 
Dolce  e  Dio,  se  il  mondo  e  amaro ; 
Sappia  V  uom  che  al  cielo  e  caro  ; 

Abbiafede,  e  avra  conforti. 


HOPE   FOR   THE   HOPELESS. 

When,  unveiled  by  Truth's  compulsion, 
Life  without  a  smile  appears. 

And  the  breaking  heart's  convulsion 
Finds  no  vent  in  words  or  tears, 

Xought  can  cheer  the  dark  existence 
Which  we  may  not  fly  from  yet ; 

But,  with  Fate's  severe  assistance, 
Though  we  live,  we  may  forget. 

Patience,  quiet,  toil,  denial, 

These,  though  hard,  are  good  for  man ; 
And  the  martyred  spirit's  trial 

Gains  it  more  than  passion  can. 

This  have  thou  and  I  been  learning, 
Lessons  strange  to  young  and  old  ; 

But  while  loving,  shrinking,  yearning, 
Be  it  still  the  faith  we  hold. 


154  Hope  for  the  Hopeless. 

For  while  woe  is  broad  and  patent, 
Filling,  clouding  all  the  sight, 

Ever  MELIORA  LATENT, 

And  a  dawn  will  end  the  night. 

Meliora  latent  ever ! 

Better  than  the  seen  lies  hid ; 
Time  the  curtain's  dusk  will  sever, 

And  will  raise  the  casket's  lid. 

This  our  hope  for  all  that's  mortal, 
And  we  too  shall  burst  our  bond ; 

Death  keeps  watch  beside  the  portal, 
But  't  is  Life  that  dwells  beyond. 

Still  the  final  hour  befriends  us, 
Nature's  direst  though  it  be  ; 

And  the  fiercest  pang  that  rends  us 
Does  its  worst  —  and  sets  us  free. 

While  our  seekings,  lingerings,  fieeings, 
Most  inflame  us,  most  destroy, 

It  is  much  for  weakest  beings 
Still  to  hope,  though  not  enjoy. 

Then  from  earth's  immediate  sorrow 
Toward  the  skyey  future  turn, 


Hope  for  tlw  Hopeless.  155 

And  from  its  unseen  to-morrow 
Fill  to-day's  exhausted  urn  ! 


Hope  —  with  all  the  strength  thou  usest 

In  embracing  thy  despair  ; 
Love  —  the  earthly  love  thou  losest 

Shall  return  to  thee  more  fair  ; 
Work  —  make  clear  the  forest-tangles 

Of  the  wildest  stranger-land  ; 
Trust  —  the  blessed  deathly  angels 

Whisper  *•  Sabbath  hours  at  hand!" 


TU  NE   QU^ESIERIS! 

Only  the  present  is  thy  part  and  fee : 

And  happy  thou, 
If,  though  thou  didst  not  beat  thy  future  brow, 

Thou  couldst  well  see 
What  present  things  required  of  thee. 

God  chains  the  dog  till  night:  wilt  loose  the 
chain, 
And  wake  thy  sorrow  ? 
Wilt  thou  forestall  it,  and  now  grieve  to-morrow, 
And  then  again 
Grieve  over  freshly  all  thy  pain  ? 

Either  grief  will  not  come,  or  if  it  must, 

Do  not  forecast : 
And  while  it  cometh,  it  is  almost  past. 

Away  distrust ! 
My  God  hath  promised  :  he  is  just. 


ANTICIPATION. 

How  beautiful  the  earth  is  still 

To  thee,  —  how  full  of  happiness  ! 
How  little  fraught  with  real  ill, 

Or  unreal  phantoms  of  distress  ! 
How  spring  can  bring  thee  glory,  yet, 
And  summer  win  thee  to  forget 

December's  sullen  time ! 
Why  dost  thou  hold  the  treasure  fast 
Of  youth's  delight,  when  youth  is  past, 

And  thou  art  near  thy  prime  ?  — 
When  those  who  were  thy  own  compeers, 
Equals  in  fortune  and  in  years, 
Have  seen  their  morning  melt  in  tears, 

To  clouded,  smileless  day: 
Blest,  had  they  died  untried  and  young, 
Before  their  hearts  went  wandering  wrong, 
Poor  slaves,  subdued  by  passions  strong, 

A  weak  and  helpless  prey  ! 

u  Because,  I  hoped  while  they  enjoyed, 
And,  by  fulfilment,  hope  destroyed : 
n 


158  Anticipation. 

As  children  hope,  with  trustful  breast, 
I  waited  bliss,  and  cherished  rest. 
A  thoughtful  spirit  taught  me,  soon, 
That  we  must  long  till  life  be  done  ; 
That  every  phase  of  earthly  joy 
Must  always  fade,  and  always  cloy. 

u  This  I  foresaw,  and  would  not  chase 

The  fleeting  treacheries  ; 
But,  with  firm  foot  and  tranquil  face, 
Held  backward  from  that  tempting  race, 
Gazed  o'er  the  sands  the  waves  efface, 

To  the  enduring  seas  : 
There  cast  my  anchor  of  desire, 

Deep  in  unknown  eternity, 
Nor  ever  let  my  spirit  tire, 

With  looking  for  what  is  to  be. 

"  Tt  is  hope's  spell  that  glorifies, 
Like  youth,  to  my  maturer  eyes, 
All  Nature's  million  mysteries, 

The  fearful  and  the  fair ; 
Hope  soothes  me  in  the  griefs  I  know, 
She  lulls  my  pain  for  others'  woe, 
And  makes  me  strong  to  undergo 

What  I  am  born  to  bear. 

"  Glad  comforter  !  will  I  not  brave, 
Unawed,  the  darkness  of  the  grave,  —  * 


Anticipation,  159 

Nay,  smile  to  hear  Death's  billows  rave, 

Sustained,  my  guide,  by  thee? 
The  more  unjust  seems  present  fate, 
The  more  my  spirit  swells  elate, 
Strong,  in  thy  strength,  to  anticipate 

Rewarding  destiny  !  " 


ONWARD  INTO   LIGHT. 

Our  course  is  onward,  onward  into  light : 
What  though  the  darkness  gathereth  amain  ? 
Yet  to  return  or  tarry  both  are  vain. 
How  tarry,  when  around  us  is  thick  night  ? 
Whither  return  ?  what  flower  yet  ever  might, 
In  days  of  gloom  and  cold  and  stormy  rain, 
Inclose  itself  in  its  green  bud  again, 
Hiding  from  wrath  of  tempest  out  of  sight  ? 
Courage !  we  travel  through  a  darksome  cave, 
But  still,  as  nearer  to  the  light  we  draw, 
Fresh  gales  will  reach  us  from  the  upper  air, 
And  wholesome  dews  of  heaven  our  foreheads 

lave; 
The  darkness  lighten  more,  till,  full  of  awe, 
We  stand  in  the  open  sunshine  —  unaware. 


CARPE   DIEM! 

We  live  not  in  our  moments  or  our  years: 
The  present  we  fling  from  us  like  the  rind 
( tf  some  sweet  future,  which  we  after  find 

Bitter  to  taste,  or  bind  that  in  with  fears, 

And  water  it  beforehand  with  our  tears,  — 
Vain  tears  for  that  which  never  may  arrive  : 
Meanwhile  the  joy  whereby  we  ought  to  live, 

Neglected,  or  unheeded,  disappears. 

Wiser  it  were  to  welcome  and  make  ours 

Whate'er  of  good,  though  small,  the  present 
brings, — 

Kind   greetings,  sunshine,    song   of  birds,   and 
Bowers, 
With  a  child's  pure  delight  in  little  things  ; 

And  of  the  griefs  unborn  to  rest  secure, 

Knowing  that  mercy  ever  will  endure. 


AGAINST  DESPONDENCY. 

Despair  not  in  the  vale  of  woe, 
Where  many  joys  from  suffering  flow. 

Oft  breathes  simoom,  and  close  behind 
A  breath  of  God  doth  softly  blow. 

Clouds  threaten  —  but  a  ray  of  light, 
And  not  of  lightning,  falls  below. 

How  many  winters  o'er  thy  head 
Have  past,  —  yet  bald  it  does  not  show. 

Thy  branches  are  not  bare,  —  and  yet 
What  storms  have  shook  them  to  and  fro. 

To  thee  has  time  brought  many  joys, 
If  many  it  has  bid  to  go  ; 

And  seasoned  has  with  bitterness 
Thy  cup,  that  flat  it  should  not  grow. 


Against  Despondency.  163 

Trust  in  that  veiled  hand,  which  leads 
None  by  the  path  that  he  would  go ; 

And  always  be  for  change  prepared, 
For  the  world's  law  is  ebb  and  flow. 

Stand  fast  in  suffering,  until  He 
Who  called  it,  shall  dismiss  also  ; 

And  from  the  Lord  all  good  expect, 
Who  many  mercies  strews  below,  — 

Who  in  life's  narrow  garden-strip 
Has  bid  delights  unnumbered  blow. 


AGAINST   FOREBODING. 

0  thou  of  dark  forebodings  drear, 
O  thou  of  such  a  faithless  heart, 
Hast  thou  forgotten  what  thou  art, 
That  thou  hast  ventured  so  to  fear  ? 

No  weed  on  Ocean's  bosom  cast, 
Borne  by  its  never-resting  foam 
This  way  and  that,  without  an  home, 
Till  flung  on  some  bleak  shore  at  last,  — 

But  thou  the  Lotus,  which,  above, 
Swayed  here  and  there  by  wind  and  tide, 
Yet  still  below  doth  fixed  abide, 
Fast  rooted  in  eternal  Love. 


VAIN  HOPES   AND   FEARS. 

One  time  I  was  allowed  to  steer 
Through  realms  of  azure  light ; 

Henceforth,  I  said,  I  need  not  fear 
A  lower,  meaner  flight ; 

But  here  shall  evermore  abide, 

In  light  and  splendor  glorified. 

My  heart  one  time  the  rivers  fed, 

Large  dews  upon  it  lay ; 
A  freshness  it  has  won,  I  said, 

Which  shall  not  pass  away, 
But  what  it  is,  it  shall  remain, 
Its  freshness  to  the  end  retain. 

But  when  I  lay  upon  the  shore, 
Like  some  poor  wounded  thing, 

I  deemed  I  should  not  ever  more 
Refit  my  shattered  wing. — 

Nailed  to  the  ground  and  fastened  there  : 

This  was  the  thought  of  my  despair. 


166  Vain  Hopes  and  Fears. 

And  when  my  very  heart  seemed  dried, 
And  parched  as  summer  dust, 

Such  still  I  deemed  it  must  abide ; 
No  hope  had  I,  no  trust 

That  any  power  again  could  bless 

With  fountains  that  waste  wilderness. 

But  if  both  hope  and  fear  were  vain, 

And  came  alike  to  nought, 
Two  lessons  we  from  this  may  gain, 

If  aught  can  teach  us  aught,  — 
One  lesson  rather,  —  to  divide 
Between  our  fearfulness  and  pride. 


THEY  SERVE  WHO    STAND  AND  WAIT. 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent. 

Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 
And  that  one  talent,  which  is  death  to  hide, 

Lodg'd  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more 
bent 

To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
My  true  account,  lest  he  returning  chide,  — 
Doth  God  exact  day-labor,  light  denied  ? 

I  fondly  ask.     But  patience,  to  prevent 

That   murmur,    soon    replies,  —  God   doth    not 
need 
Either  man's  work,  or  his  own  gifts:  who  best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best :  his 
state 

Is  kingly  ;  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed, 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest : 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 


FOR   GOD'S   SAKE. 

Teach  me,  my  God  and  King, 

In  all  things  Thee  to  see ; 
And  what  I  do  in  anything, 

To  do  it  as  for  Thee  : 

Not  rudely,  as  a  beast, 

To  run  into  an  action ; 
But  still  to  make  thee  prepossest, 

And  give  it  his  perfection. 

A  man  that  looks  on  glass, 

On  it  may  stay  his  eye  ; 
Or,  if  he  pleaseth,  through  it  pass, 

And  then  the  heaven  espy. 

All  may  of  thee  partake  : 

Nothing  can  be  so  mean, 
Which,  with  this  tincture,  —  for  Thy  sake, 

Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean. 


For  God's  Sake.  169 

A  servant,  with  this  clause, 

Makes  drudgery  divine  : 
Who  sweeps  a  room,  as  for  thy  laws, 

Makes  that,  and  the  action,  fine. 

This  is  the  famous  stone 

That  turneth  all  to  gold  ; 
For  that  which  God  cloth  touch  and  own 

Cannot  for  less  be  told. 


THOU   CAM'ST    NOT   TO   THY   PLACE    BY 
ACCIDENT. 

Thou  cam'st  not  to  thy  place  by  accident: 
It  is  the  very  place  God  meant  for  thee  ; 
And  shouldst  thou  there  small  scope  for  action 
see, 

Do  not  for  this  give  room  to  discontent ; 

Xor  let  the  time  thou  owest  to  God  be  spent 
In  idly  dreaming  how  thou  mightest  be, 
In  what  concerns  thy  spiritual  life,  more  free 

From  outward  hindrance  or  impediment : 

For  presently  this  hindrance  thou  shalt  find 
That  without  which  all  goodness  were  a  task 
So  slight,  that  Virtue  never  could  grow  strong : 

And  wouldst  thou  do  one  duty  to  His  mind, 
The  Imposer's,  —  overburdened,  thou  shalt  ask, 
And  own  thy  need  of  grace  to  help,  ere  long. 


ADEQUACY. 

We  cannot  say  the  morning  sun  fulfils 
Ingloriously  its  course  ;  nor  that  the  clear 
Strong  stars,  without  significance,  insphere 

Our  habitation.     ^Ye,  meantime,  our  ills 

Heap  up  against  this  good,  and  lift  a  cry 

Against  this  work-day  world,  this  ill-spread 
feast, 

As  if  ourselves  were  better  certainly 

Than  what  we  come  to.     Maker  and  High- 
Priest, 

I  ask  thee  not  my  joys  to  multiply,  — 
Only  to  make  me  worthier  of  the  least ! 


MY  TIMES  ARE  IN  THY  HAND. 

Father,  I  know  that  all  my  life 

Is  portioned  out  for  me, 
And  the  changes  that  will  surely  come 

I  do  not  fear  to  see ; 
But  I  ask  thee  for  a  present  mind 

Intent  on  pleasing  thee. 

I  ask  thee  for  a  thoughtful  love, 
Through  constant  watching  wise, 

To  meet  the  glad  with  joyful  smiles, 
And  to  wipe  the  weeping  eyes  ; 

And  a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself 
To  soothe  and  sympathize. 

I  would  not  have  the  restless  will 

That  hurries  to  and  fro, 
Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do, 

Or  secret  thing  to  know ; 
I  would  be  treated  as  a  child, 

And  guided  where  I  go. 


Jly   Times  are  in   tliy  Hand.  173 

Wherever  in  the  world  I  am, 

In  whatsoe'er  estate, 
I  have  a  fellowship  with  hearts 

To  keep  and  cultivate  ; 
And  a  work  of  lowly  love  to  do 

For  the  Lord  on  whom  I  wait. 

So  I  ask  thee  for  the  daily  strength, 

To  none  that  ask  denied. 
And  a  mind  to  blend  with  outward  life, 

While  keeping  at  thy  side  ; 
Content  to  fill  a  little  space, 

If  Thou  be  glorified. 

And  if  some  things  I  do  not  ask 

In  my  cup  of  blessing  be, 
I  would  have  my  spirit  filled  the  more 

With  grateful  love  to  thee  ; 
And  careful  less  to  serve  thee  much. 

Than  to  please  thee  perfectly. 

There  are  briers  besetting  every  path, 

Which  call  for  patient  care  ; 
There  is  a  cross  in  every  lot, 

And  a  Deed  for  earnest  prayer  ; 
But  a  lowly  heart  that  leans  on  thee 

1-  happy  anywhere. 

IS 


174       My  Times  are  in  thy  Hand. 

In  a  service  which  thy  love  appoints 
There  are  no  bonds  for  me  ; 

For  my  secret  heart  is  taught  the  truth 
That  makes  thy  children  free ; 

And  a  life  of  self-renouncing  love 
Is  a  life  of  liberty. 


THE   BETTER  PART. 

TO    A    VIRTUOUS    YOUNG    LADY. 

Lady,  that  in  the  prime  of  earliest  youth 

Wisely  hast  shimn'd  the  broad  way  and  the 

green, 
And  with  those  few  art  eminently  seen 

That  labor  up  the  hill  of  heavenly  Truth, 

The  better  part,  with  Mary  and  with  Ruth, 
Chosen  thou  hast ;  and  they  that  overween, 
And  at  thy  growing  virtues  fret  their  spleen, 

No  anger  find  in  thee,  but  pity  and  ruth. 

Thy  care  is  fixt,  and  zealously  attends, 

To  fill  thy  odorous  lamp  with  deeds  of  light, 
And  hope  that  reaps  not  shame.     Therefore 
be  sure 

Thou,  when  the  Bridegroom  with    his   feastful 
friends 
Passes  to  bliss  at  the  mid  hour  of  night, 
I  last  gain'd  thy  entrance,  virgin  wise  and  pure. 


FAME. 

What  shall  I  do  lest  life  in  silence  pass  ? 

And  if  it  do, 
And  never  prompt  the  bray  of  noisy  brass, 

What  need'st  thou  rue  ? 
Remember,  aye  the  ocean  deeps  are  mute, 

The  shallows  roar : 
Worth  is  the  ocean  ;  Fame  is  but  the  bruit 

Along  the  shore. 

What  shall  I  do  to  be  forever  known  ? 

Thy  duty  ever. 
This  did  full  many  who  yet  slept  unknown. 

Oh,  never,  never ! 
Think'st  thou,  perchance,  that  they  remain  un- 
known 

Whom  thou  know'st  not  ? 
By   angel-trumps    in    heaven    their    praise    is 
blown,  — 

Divine  their  lot 


Fame.  177 

What  shall  I  do  to  gain  eternal  life  ? 

Discharge  aright 
mple  dues  with  which  each  dag  is  rife? 

Yea,  with  thy  might. 
Ere  perfect  scheme  of  action  thou  devise, 

Will  life  be  shed ; 
While  he  who  ever  acts  as  conscience  cries 

Shall  live,  though  dead. 


TRUTH. 

Fly  from  the  world  and  dwell  with  Truthfulness  : 
Sufficient  be  thy  wealth,  albeit  small ; 
Avarice  hath  hate,  ambition  carefulness. 
And  praise  despite,  yet  good  is  mixed  with  all : 
Taste  no  more  sweets  than  to  thy  share  may  fall ; 
Counsel  thyself,  that  well  canst  counsel  give, 
And  fear  not  Truth  shall  teach  thee  how  to  live. 

All  that  is  sent  thee  take  with  cheerfulness,  — 
The  wrestling  of  this  world  requires  a  fall  , 
Here  is  no  home,  here  is  but  wilderness ; 
Pilgrim,  advance  !     Poor  beast,  desert  thy  stall ; 
Look  up  on  high,  and  thank  thy  God  for  all ! 
Forsake  thy  lusts,  and  with  thy  spirit  strive, 
And  fear  not  Truth  shall  save  thy  soul  alive ! 


DUTY. 

•Stern  Daughter  of  the  Voice  of  God, 

( )  Duty,  if  that  name  thou  love, 
Who  art  a  light  to  guide,  a  rod 

To  check  the  erring,  and  reprove  ; 
Thou,  who  art  victory  and  law 
When  empty  terrors  overawe, 
From  vain  temptations  dost  set  free, 
And  calm'st  the  weary  strife  of  frail  humanity ! 

There  are  who  ask  not  if  thine  eye 
Be  on  them  ;  who,  in  love  and  truth, 

Where  no  misgiving  is.  rely 

Upon  the  genial  sense  of  youth  : 

Glad  hearts,  without  reproach  or  blot. 

Who  do  thy  work,  and  know  it  not: 

Oh!  if.  through  confidence  misplaced. 

They  fail,  thy  saving  arms,  dread  Power,  around 
them  cast  I 

Serene  will  be  our  days  and  bright. 
And  happy  will  our  nature  be, 


180  Duty. 

When  love  is  an  unerring  light, 

And  joy  its  own  security. 
And  they  a  blissful  course  may  hold 
Even  now,  who,  not  unwisely  bold, 
Live  in  the  spirit  of  this  creed, 
Yet   seek  thy  firm    support,  according  to  their 
need. 

I,  loving  freedom,  and  untried, 

No  sport  of  every  random  gust, 
Yet  being  to  myself  a  guide. 

Too  blindly  have  reposed  my  trust : 
And  oft,  when  in  my  heart  was  heard 
Thy  timely  mandate,  I  deferred 
The  task,  in  smoother  walks  to  stray ; 
But  thee  I  now  would  serve  more  strictly,  if  I 
may. 

Through  no  disturbance  of  my  soul, 
Or  strong  compunction  in  me  wrought, 

I  supplicate  for  thy  control ; 

But  in  the  quietness  of  thought. 

Me  this  unchartered  freedom  tires  ; 

I  feel  the  weight  of  chance-desires ; 

My  hopes  no  more  must  change  their  name ; 

I  long  for  a  repose  that  ever  is  the  same. 

Stern  Lawgiver!  yet  thou  dost  wear 
The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace  ; 


Duty.  181 

Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 

A^  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face  : 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds, 
And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads ; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong  ; 
And    the  most   ancient  heavens,  through    thee, 
are  fresh  and  strong. 

To  humbler  functions,  awful  Power ! 

I  call  thee  :  I  myself  commend 
Unto  thy  guidance  from  this  hour ; 

O  let  my  weakness  have  an  end ! 
Give  unto  me.  made  lowly  wise, 
The  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  ; 
The  confidence  of  reason  give  ; 
And  in  the  light  of  truth  thy  bondman  let  me 
live! 


PEACE. 

I  have  found  Peace  in  the  bright  earth, 

And  in  the    sunny  sky  ; 
By  the  low  voice  of  summer  seas, 

And  where  streams  murmur  by. 

I  find  it  in  the  quiet  tone 

Of  voices  that  I  love  ; 
By  the  flickering  of  a  twilight  fire, 

And  in  a  leafless  grove. 

I  find  it  in  the  silent  flow 

Of  solitary  thought ; 
In  calm,  half-meditated  dreams, 

And  reasonings  self-taught. 

But  seldom  have  I  found  such  peace, 

As  in  the  soul's  deep  joy 
Of  passing  onward  free  from  harm 

Through  every  day's  employ. 


THE    CLOISTER. 

Thought  never  knew  material  bound  or  place, 
Nor  footsteps  may  the  roving  fancy  trace  : 
Peace  cannot  learn  beneath  a  roof  to  house, 
Nor  cloister  hold  us  safe  within  our  vows. 

The  cloistered  heart  may  brave  the  common  air, 
And  the  world's    children  breathe   the    holiest 

prayer : 
Build  for  us.  Lord,  and  in  thy  temple  reign  ! 
Watch  with  us.  Lord,  our  watchman  wakes  in 

vain  ! 


THE   WORTH   OF  HOURS. 

Believe  not  that  your  inner  eye 
Can  ever  in  just  measure  try 
The  worth  of  hours  as  they  go  by. 

For  every  man's  weak  self,  alas  ! 
Makes  him  to  see  them,  while  they  pass, 
As  through  a  dim  or  tinted  glass  : 

But  if  in  earnest  care  you  would 
Mete  out  to  each  its  part  of  good, 
Trust  rather  to  your  after-mood. 

Those  surely  are  not  fairly  spent, 
That  leave  your  spirit  bowed  and  bent 
In  sad  unrest  and  ill-content : 

And  more,  —  though  free  from  seeming  harm, 

You  rest  from  toil  of  mind  or  arm, 

Or  slow  retire  from  Pleasure's  charm,  — 


The  Worth  of  Hours.  185 

If  then  a  painful  sense  comes  on 
Of  something  wholly  lost  and  gone, 
Vainly  enjoyed,  or  vainly  done,  — 

Of  something  from  your  being's  chain 
Broke  off,  nor  to  be  linked  again 
By  all  mere  Memory  can  retain,  — 

Upon  your  heart  this  truth  may  rise, — 
Nothing  that  altogether  dies 
►Suffices  man's  just  destinies. 

So  should  we  live,  that  every  hour 
May  die  as  dies  the  natural  flower,  — 
A  self-reviving  thing  of  power  ; 

That  every  thought  and  every  deed 
May  hold  within  itself  the  seed 
Of  future  good  and  future  meed  ; 

Esteeming  sorrow,  whose  employ 
Is  to  develop,  not  destroy. 
Far  better  than  a  barren  joy. 


THE  INGRATITUDE  OF  THE  HAPPY. 

Some  murmur  when  their  sky  is  clear, 

And  wholly  bright  to  view, 
If  one  small  speck  of  dark  appear 

In  their  great  heaven  of  blue. 
And  some  with  thankful  love  are  filled, 

If  but  one  streak  of  light, 
One  ray  of  God's  good  mercy,  gild 

The  darkness  of  their  night. 

In  palaces  are  hearts  that  ask, 

In  discontent  and  pride, 
Why  life  is  such  a  dreary  task, 

And  all  good  things  denied. 
And  hearts  in  poorest  huts  admire 

How  love  has  in  their  aid 
(Love  that  not  ever  seems  to  tire) 

Such  rich  provision  made ! 


WERE  THIS  WORLD  ONLY  MADE  FOR  ME  ! 

Unthinking,  idle,  wild,  and  young, 

I  laughed,  and  danced,  and  talked,  and  sung; 

And,  proud  of  health,  of  freedom  vain, 

Dreamed  not  of  sorrow,  care,  or  pain  ; 

Concluding,  in  those  hours  of  glee, 

That  all  the  world  was  made  for  me. 

But  when  the  hour  of  trial  came, 
When  sickness  shook  this  trembling  frame, 
When  folly's  gay  pursuits  were  o'er, 
And  I  could  sing  and  dance  no  more, 
It  then  occurred,  how  sad  't  would  be 
Were  this  world  only  made  for  me. 


LOVE'S   SELF-REPROACH. 

This  did  not  once  so  trouble  me, 
That  better  I  could  not  love  Thee  ; 

But  now  I  feel  and  know 
That  only  when  we  love,  we  find 
How  far  our  hearts  remain  behind 
The  love  they  should  bestow. 

While  we  had  little  care  to  call 
On  thee,  and  scarcely  prayed  at  all, 

We  seemed  enough  to  pray  : 
But  now  we  only  think  with  shame 
How  seldom  to  thy  glorious  name 

Our  lips  their  offerings  pay. 

And  when  we  gave  yet  slighter  heed 
Unto  our  brother's  suffering  need, 
Our  hearts  reproached  us  then 
Not  half  so  much  as  now,  that  we 
With  such  a  careless  eye  can  see 
The  woes  and  wants  of  men. 


Love's  Self-Beproach.  189 

In  doing  is  this  knowledge  ours,  — 
To  see  what  yet  remains  undone  ; 

With  this  our  pride  repress. 
And  give  ns  grace,  a  growing  store, 
That  day  by  day  we  may  do  more, 

And  may  esteem  it  less ! 


13 


CAST  THY  BREAD   ON   THE   WATERS. 

Oh  be  not  faithless !  with  the  morn, 

Scatter  abroad  thy  grain  ; 
At  noontide,  —  faint  not  thou  forlorn  ; 

At  evening,  —  sow  again  ! 
Blessed  are  they,  whate'er  betide, 
Who  thus  all  waters  sow  beside. 


Thou  knowest  not  which  seed  shall  grow, 

Or  which  may  die  or  live  ; 
In  faith  and  hope  and  patience,  sow ! 

The  increase  God  shall  give,  — 
According  to  his  gracious  will, 
As  best  his  purpose  may  fulfil. 


EXAMPLE. 

We  scatter  seeds  with  careless  hand, 

And  dream  we  ne'er  shall  see  them  more : 
But  for  a  thousand  years 
Their  fruit  appears, 
In  weeds,  that  mar  the  land, 
Or  healthful  store. 

The  deeds  we  do,  the  words  we  say,  — 
Into  still  air  they  seem  to  fleet, 
AVe  count  them  ever  past ; 
But  they  shall  last,  — 
In  the  dread  judgment  they 
And  we  shall  meet! 

I  charge  thee  by  the  years  gone  by, 
For  the  love's  sake  of  brethren  dear, 
Keep  thou  the  one  true  way, 
In  work  and  play, 
Lest  in  that  world  their  cry 
Of  woe  thou  hear. 


ABSENCE. 

What  shall  I  do  with  all  the  days  and  hours 
That  must  be  counted  ere  I  see  thy  face  ? 

How  shall  I  charm  the  interval  that  lowers 
Between  this   time  and  that  sweet  time  of 
grace  ? 

Shall  I  in  slumber  steep  each  weary  sense, 
Weary  with  longing?     Shall  I  flee  away 

Into  past  days,  and  with  some  fond  pretence 
Cheat  myself  to  forget  the  present  day  ? 

Shall  love  for  thee  lay  on  my  soul  the  sin 
Of  casting  from  me  God's  great  gift  of  time  ? 

Shall  I  these  mists  of  memory  lock'd  within, 
Leave,  and  forget  life's  purposes  sublime  ? 

Oh  how,  or  by  what  means,  may  I  contrive 
To  bring  the  hour  that  brings  thee  back  more 
near  ? 

How  may  I  teach  my  drooping  hope  to  live, 
Until  that  blessed  time,  and  thou,  art  here  ? 


Absence.  193 

I  '11  tell  thee  :  for  thy  sake,  I  will  lay  hold 
Of  all  good  aims,  and  consecrate  to  thee, 

In  worthy  deeds,  each  moment  that  is  told 
While  thou,  beloved  one  !  art  far  from  me. 

For  thee,  I  will  arouse  my  thoughts  to  try 

All    heavenward   flights,    all    high    and   holy 
strains  ; 
For  thy  dear  sake,  I  will  walk  patiently 

Through  these  long  hours,  nor  call  their  min- 
utes pains. 

I  will  this  dreary  blank  of  absence  make 
A  noble  task-time,  and  will  therein  strive 

To  follow  excellence,  and  to  o'ertake 

More  good  than  I  have  won  since  yet  I  live. 

So  may  this  doomed  time  build  up  in  me 

A  thousand  graces  which  shall  thus  be  thine ; 

So  may  my  love  and  longing  hallowed  be, 
And  thv  dear  thought  an  influence  divine. 


DISAPPOINTED    AFFECTION. 

If  fate  Love's  dear  ambition  mar, 

And  load  his  breast  with  hopeless  pain, 
And  seem  to  blot  out  sun  and  star, 

Love,  lost  or  won,  is  countless  gain. 
His  sorrow  boasts  a  secret  bliss 

Which  sorrow  of  itself  beguiles, 
And  Love  in  tears  too  noble  is 

For  pity,  save  of  Love  in  smiles. 
But  looking  backward  through  his  tears, 

With  vision  of  maturer  scope, 
How  often  one  dead  joy  appears 

The  platform  of  some  better  hope  ! 
And,  let  us  own,  the  sharpest  smart 

Which  human  patience  may  endure 
Pays  light  for  that  which  leaves  the  heart 

More  generous,  dignified,  and  pure. 


Learn,  by  a  mortal  yearning  to  ascend,  — 
Seeking  a  higher  object.     Love  was  given, 


Disappointed  Affection.  195 

Encounajvd*  sanctioned,  chiejlij  for  that  end  ; 

For  this  the  passion  to  excess  was  driven, — 
TJtat  self  might  be  annulled ;  her  bondage  prove 
The  fetters  of  a  dream  opposed  to  Love! 


A  VALEDICTION. 

God  be  with  thee,  my  beloved,  —  God  be  with 
thee  ! 
Else  alone  thou  goest  forth, 
Thy  face  unto  the  north, 
Moor  and  pleasance,  all  around  thee  and  beneath 
thee, 
Looking  equal  in  one  snow  : 
While  I,  who  try  to  reach  thee, 
Vainly  follow,  vainly  follow, 
With  the  farewell  and  the  hollo, 
And  cannot  reach  thee  so. 
Alas  !  I  can  but  teach  thee  : 
jGod  be  with  thee,  my  beloved,  —  God  be  with 
thee! 

Can  I  teach   thee,  my  beloved,  —  can  I  teach 
thee? 
If  I  said,  Go  left  or  right, 
The  counsel  would  be  light, 


A  Valediction.  197 

The  wisdom  poor  of  all  that  could  enrich  thee. 

»My  right  would  show  like  left ; 
My  raising  would  depress  thee ; 
My  choice  of  light  would  blind  thee  ; 
Of  way,  would  leave  behind  thee ; 
Of  end,  would  leave  bereft. 
Alas  !  I  can  but  bless  thee  : 
May  God  teach  thee,  my  beloved,  —  may  God 
teach  thee ! 

Can  I  bless  thee,  my  beloved,  —  can  I  bless  thee  ? 

What  blessing  word  can  I 

From  mine  own  tears  keep  dry  ? 
What  flowers  grow  in  my  field  wherewith  to  dress 
thee  ? 

My  good  reverts  to  ill ; 

My  calmnesses  would  move  thee  ; 

My  softnesses  would  prick  thee ; 

My  bindings-up  would  break  thee  ; 

My  crownings  curse  and  kill. 

Alas  !  I  can  but  love  thee  : 
May  God  bless  thee,  my  beloved,  —  may  God 
bless  thee  ! 

Can  I  love  thee,  my  beloved,  —  can  I  love  thee  ? 
And  is  this  like  love,  to  stand 
With  no  help  in  my  hand, 


198 


A  Valediction. 


When  strong  as  death  I  fain  would  watch  above 
thee? 

My  love-kiss  can  deny 

No  tear  that  falls  beneath  it ; 

Mine  oath  of  love  can  swear  thee 

From  no  ill  that  comes  near  thee ; 

And  thou  diest  while  I  breathe  it, 

And  I  —  I  can  but  die  ! 
May  God  love  thee,  my  beloved,  —  may   God 
love  thee ! 


FRIENDS   PARTED   BY    OPINION. 

As  ships,  becalmed  at  eve,  that  lay 
With  canvas  drooping,  side  by  side, 

Two  towers  of  sail  at  dawn  of  day, 

Are  scarce,  long  leagues  apart,  descried ; 

When  fell  the  night,  upsprung  the  breeze, 
And  all  the  darkling  hours  they  plied, 

Nor  dreamt  but  each  the  self-same  seas 
By  each  was  cleaving,  side  by  side : 

E'en  so  —  but  why  the. tale  reveal 

Of  those  whom,  year  by  year  unchanged, 

Brief  absence  joined  anew  to  feel, 
Astounded,  soul  from  soul  estranged  ? 

At  dead  of  night  their  sails  were  filled. 

And  onward  each  rejoicing  steered  : 
Ah.  neither  blame,  for  neither  willed. 

Or  wist,  what  first  with  dawn  appeared  ! 


200         Friends  parted  by  Opinion. 

To  veer,  how  vain  !     On,  onward  strain, 
Brave  barks !     In  light,  in  darkness  too, 

Through  winds  and  tides  one  compass  guides ; 
To  that,  and  your  own  selves,  be  true. 

But  0  blithe  breeze,  and  O  great  seas, 
Though  ne'er,  that  earliest  parting  past, 

On  your  wide  plain  they  join  again, 
Together  lead  them  home  at  last ! 

One  port,  methought,  alike  they  sought, 
One  purpose  hold  where'er  they  fare ; 

O  bounding  breeze,  O  rushing  seas, 
At  last,  at  last,  unite  them  there ! 


THE  MINISTRY   OF   LOVE. 

I  would  I  were  an  excellent  divine, 
That  had  the  Bible  at  my  fingers'  ends, 

That  men  might  hear  out  of  this  mouth  of  mine 
How  God  doth  make  his  enemies  his  friends, 

Rather  than  with  a  thundering  and  long  prayer 

Be  led  into  presumption  or  despair. 

This  would  I  be,  and  would  none  other  be 
But  a  religious  servant  of  my  God ; 

To  know  there  is  none  other  God  but  He, 
And  willingly  to  suffer  Mercy's  rod, 

Joy  in  his  grace,  and  live  but  in  his  love, 

And  seek  my  bliss  but  in  the  world  above. 

And  I  would  frame  a  kind  of  faithful  prayer 
For  all  estates  within  the  state  of  grace, 

That  careful  love  might  never  know  despair, 
Nor  servile  fear  might  faithful  love  deface  ; 

And  this  would  I  both  day  and  night  devise 

To  make  my  humble  spirit's  exercise. 


202  The  Ministry  of  Love. 

And  I  would  read  the  rules  of  sacred  life, 
Persuade  the  troubled  soul  to  patience, 

The  husband  care,  and  comfort  to  the  wife, 
To  child  and  servant  due  obedience, 

Faith  to  the  friend,  and  to  the  neighbor  peace, 

That  love   might   live,  and  quarrels   all    might 
cease : 

Pray  for  the  health  of  all  that  are  diseased, 
Confession  unto  all  that  are  convicted, 

And  patience  unto  all  that  are  displeased, 
And  comfort  unto  all  that  are  afflicted, 

And  mercy  unto  all  that  have  offended, 

And  grace  to  all,  that  all  may  be  amended ! 


THE   KINGDOM   OF   GOD. 

I  say  to  thee,  do  thou  repeat 

To  the  first  man  thou  mayest  meet, 

In  lane,  highway,  or  open  street,  — 

That  he,  and  we,  and  all  men,  move 

Under  a  canopy  of  Love, 

As  broad  as  the  blue  sky  above  : 

That  doubt  and  trouble,  fear  and  pain, 
And  anguish,  all  are  shadows  vain ; 
That  death  itself  shall  not  remain  : 

That  weary  deserts  we  may  tread, 
A  dreary  labyrinth  may  thread, 
Through  dark  ways  underground  be  led : 

Yet,  if  we  will  our  Guide  obey, 
The  dreariest  path,  the  darkest  way, 
Shall  issue  out  in  heavenly  day. 


204  The  Kingdom  of  God. 

And  we,  on  divers  shores  now  cast, 
Shall  meet,  our  perilous  voyage  past, 
All  in  our  Father's  home  at  last. 

And  ere  thou  leave  him,  say  thou  this, 
Yet  one  word  more :  They  only  miss 
The  winning  of  that  final  bliss, 

Who  will  not  count  it  true  that  love,  — 
Blessing,  not  cursing,  —  rules  above, 
And  that  in  it  we  live  and  move. 

And  one  thing  further  make  him  know, 
That  to  believe  these  things  are  so, 
This  firm  faith  never  to  forego, 

Despite  of  all  which  seems  at  strife 
With  blessing,  all  with  curses  rife,  — 
That  this  is  blessing,  this  is  life. 


MY   PSALM. 

I  MOURN  no  more  my  vanished  years: 

Beneath  a  tender  rain. 
An  April  rain  of  smiles  and  tears, 

My  heart  is  young  again. 

The  west  winds  blow,  and,  singing  low, 
I  hear  the  glad  streams  run  ; 

The  windows  of  my  soul  I  throw 
Wide  open  to  the  sun. 

Xo  longer  forward  nor  behind 

I  look  in  hope  or  fear  ; 
But,  grateful,  take  the  good  I  find, 

The  best  of  now  and  here. 

I  plough  no  more  a  desert  land, 

To  harvest  weed  and  tare ; 
The  manna  dropping  from  God's  hand 

Rebukes  my  painful  care. 

14 


206  My  Psalm. 

I  break  my  pilgrim  staff,  I  lay 

Aside  the  toiling  oar ; 
The  angel  sought  so  far  away 

I  welcome  at  my  door. 

All  as  God  wills,  who  wisely  heeds 

To  give  or  to  withhold, 
And  knoweth  more  of  all  my  needs 

Than  all  my  prayers  have  told  ! 

Enough  that  blessings  undeserved 
Have  marked  my  erring  track  ; 

That  wheresoe'er  my  feet  have  swerved, 
His  chastening  turned  me  back ; 

That  more  and  more  a  Providence 

Of  Love  is  understood, 
Making  the  springs  of  time  and  sense 

Sweet  with  eternal  good  • 

That  death  seems  but  a  covered  way 

Which  opens  into  light, 
Wherein  no  blinded  child  can  stray 

Beyond  the  Father's  sight ; 

That  care  and  trial  seem  at  last, 
Through  Memory's  sunset  air, 


My  Psalm.  :2<)7 

Like  mountain-ranges  overpast, 
In  purple  distance  fair. 

And  so  the  shadows  fall  apart. 

And  so  the  west  winds  play  ; 
And  all  the  windows  of  my  heart 

I  open  to  the  clay. 


ANDREW  RYKMAN'S  PRAYER. 

Andrew  Rykman  's  dead  and  gone : 
You  can  see  his  leaning  slate 

In  the  graveyard,  and  thereon 
Read  his  name  and  date. 

"  Trust  is  truer  than  our  fears" 

Runs  the  legend  through  the  moss, 

"  Gain  is  not  in  added  years, 
Nor  in  death  is  loss." 

Still  the  feet  that  thither  trod, 
All  the  friendly  eyes  are  dim ; 

Only  Nature,  now,  and  God 
Have  a  care  for  him. 

There  the  dews  of  quiet  fall, 

Singing  birds  and  soft  winds  stray : 

Shall  the  tender  Heart  of  All 
Be  less  kind  than  they  ? 


Andrew  Rykman's  Prayer*         209 

What  lie  was  and  what  he  is 
They  who  ask  may  haply  find, 

If  they  read  this  prayer  of  his 
Which  he  left  behind. 


Pardon,  Lord,  the  lips  that  dare 
Shape  in  words  a  mortal's  prayer  ! 
Prayer,  that,  when  my  day  is  done, 
And  I  see  its  setting  sun, 
Shorn  and  beamless,  cold  and  dim, 
Sink  beneath  the  horizon's  rim,  — 
When  this  ball  of  rock  and  clay 
Crumbles  from  my  feet  away, 
And  the  solid  shores  of  sense 
Melt  into  the  vague  immense, 
Father !  I  may  come  to  thee 
Even  with  the  beggar's  plea, 
As  the  poorest  of  thy  poor, 
With  my  needs,  and  nothing  more. 

Not  as  one  who  seeks  his  home, 
With  a  step  assured.  I  come  ; 
Still  behind  the  tread  I  hear 
Of  my  life-companion,  Fear  ; 

Still  a  shadow  deep  and  vast 
From  my  westering  feet  is  east, 


210         Andrew  Ryhnan's  Prayer. 

Wavering,  doubtful,  undefined, 
Never  shapen  nor  outlined  : 
From  myself  the  fear  has  grown, 
And  the  shadow  is  my  own. 
Well  I  know  that  all  things  move 
To  the  spheral  rhythm  of  love,  — 
That  to  thee,  O  Lord  of  all ! 
Nothing  can  of  chance  befall : 
Child  and  seraph,  mote  and  star, 
Well  thou  knowest  what  we  are ; 
Through  thy  vast  creative  plan 
Looking,  from  the  worm  to  man, 
There  is  pity  in  thine  eyes, 
But  no  hatred  nor  surprise. 
Not  in  blind  caprice  of  will, 
Not  in  cunning  sleight  of  skill, 
Not  for  show  of  power,  was  wrought 
Nature's  marvel  in  thy  thought. 
Never  careless  hand  and  vain 
Smites  these  chords  of  joy  and  pain  ; 
No  immortal  selfishness 
Plays  the  game  of  curse  and  bless : 
Heaven  and  earth  are  witnesses 
That  thy  glory  goodness  is. 
Not  for  sport  of  mind  and  force 
Hast  thou  made  thy  universe, 
But  as  atmosphere  and  zone 
Of  thy  loving  heart  alone. 


Andrew  Rykman's  Prayer.        211 

Man,  who  walketh  in  a  show, 

Sees  before  him,  to  and  fro, 
Shadow  and  illusion  go  ; 
All  things  flow  and  fluctuate, 
Now  contract  and  now  dilate. 
In  the  welter  of  this  sea, 
Nothing  stable  is  but  Thee  ; 
In  this  whirl  of  swooning  trance, 
Thou  alone  art  permanence ; 
All  without  thee  only  seems  ; 
All  beside  is  choice  of  dreams. 
Never  yet  in  darkest  mood 
Doubted  I  that  thou  wast  good, 
Nor  mistook  my  will  for  fate, 
Pain  of  sin  for  heavenly  hate ; 
Never  dreamed  the  gates  of  pearl 
Rise  from  out  the  burning  marl, 
Or  that  good  can  only  live 
Of  the  bad  conservative, 
And  through  counterpoise  of  hell 
Heaven  alone  be  possible. 

For  myself  alone  I  doubt ; 

All  is  well,  I  know,  without ; 

I  alone  the  beauty  mar, 

I  alone  the  music  jar. 

Yet.  with  hands  by  evil  stained, 

And  an  ear  by  discord  pained, 


212         Andrew  RyJcman's  Prayer. 

I  am  groping  for  the  keys 
Of  the  heavenly  harmonies ; 
Still  within  my  heart  I  bear 
Love  for  all  things  good  and  fair. 
Hand  of  want  or  soul  in  pain 
Has  not  sought  my  door  in  vain  ; 
I  have  kept  my  fealty  good 
To  the  human  brotherhood  ; 
Scarcely  have  I  asked  in  prayer 
That  which  others  might  not  share. 
I,  who  hear  with  secret  shame 
Praise  that  paineth  more  than  blame, 
Rich  alone  in  favors  lent, 
Virtuous  by  accident, 
Doubtful  where  I  fain  would  rest, 
Frailest  where  I  seem  the  best, 
Only  strong  for  lack  of  test,  — 
What  am  I,  that  I  should  press 
Special  pleas  of  selfishness, 
Coolly  mounting  into  heaven 
On  my  neighbor  unforgiven  ? 
Ne'er  to  me,  howe'er  disguised, 
Comes  a  saint  unrecognized  ; 
Never  fails  my  heart  to  greet 
Noble  deed  with  warmer  beat ; 
Halt  and  maimed,  I  own  not  less 
All  the  grace  of  holiness  ; 
Nor,  through  shame  or  self-distrust, 


Andrew  Iiykmans  Prayer.         213 

Less  I  love  the  pure  and  just. 
Thou.  O  Elder  Brother !  who 

In  thy  flesh  oar  trial  knew, 

Thou,  who  hast  been  touched  by  these 

Our  most  sad  infirmities, 

Thou  alone  the  gulf  canst  span 

In  the  dual  heart  of  man, 

And  between  the  soul  and  sense 

Reconcile  all  difference ; 

Change  the  dream  of  me  and  mine 

For  the  truth  of  thee  and  thine, 

And.  through  chaos,  doubt,  and  strife, 

Interfuse  thy  calm  of  life. 

Haply,  thus  by  Thee  renewed, 
In  thy  borrowed  goodness  good, 
Some  sweet  morning  yet  in  God's 
Dim,  aeonian  periods. 
Joyful  I  shall  wake  to  see 
Those  I  love  who  rest  in  thee, 
And  to  them  in  thee  allied 
Shall  my  soul  be  satisfied. 
Scarcely  Hope  hath  shaped  for  me 
What  the  future  life  may  be. 
Other  lips  may  well  be  bold  ; 
Like  the  publican  of  old, 
I  can  only  urge  the  plea, 
••  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me  ! " 


214         Andrew  Rylcman's  Prayer. 

Nothing  of  desert  I  claim, 
Unto  me  belongeth  shame. 
Not  for  me  the  crowns  of  gold, 
Palms,  and  harpings  manifold  ; 
Not  for  erring  eye  and  feet 
Jasper  wall  and  golden  street. 
What  thou  wilt,  O  Father,  give  ! 
All  is  gain  that  I  receive. 
If  my  voice  I  may  not  raise 
In  the  elders'  song  of  praise, 
If  I  may  not,  sin-defiled, 
Claim  my  birthright  as  a  child, 
Suffer  it  that  I  to  thee 
As  an  hired  servant  be ; 
Let  the  lowliest  task  be  mine, 
Grateful,  so  the  work  be  thine ; 
Let  me  find  the  humblest  place 
In  the  shadow  of  thy  grace  : 
Blest  to  me  were  any  spot 
Where  temptation  whispers  not. 
If  there  be  some  weaker  one, 
Give  me  strength  to  help  him  on ; 
If  a  blinder  soul  there  be, 
Grant  that  I  his  guide  may  be. 
Make  my  mortal  dreams  come  true 
With  the  work  I  fain  would  do ; 
Clothe  with  life  the  weak  intent, 
Let  me  be  the  thing  I  meant ; 


Andrew  Rykman's  Prayer.         215 

Let  me  find  in  thy  employ 
Peace  that  dearer  is  than  joy  ; 
Out  of  self  to  love  be  led, 
And  to  heaven  acclimated, 
Until  all  things  sweet  and  good 
Seem  my  natural  habitude. 


VENI,   SANCTE   SPIRITUS. 

Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus, 
Et  emitte  coelitus 

Lucis  tuae  radium : 
Veni,  pater  pauperum, 
Veni,  dator  munerum, 

Veni,  lumen  cordium ! 

Consolator  optime, 
Dulcis  hospes  animae, 

Dulce  refrigerium  : 
In  labore  requies, 
In  sestu  temperies, 

In  fletu  solatium ! 

O  Jux  beatissima, 
Reple  cordis  intima 

Tuorum  fidelium ! 
Sine  tuo  numine, 
Nihil  est  in  homine, 

Nihil  est  innoxium. 


KING   ROBERT'S   HYMN. 

Holy  Spirit !    Fire  divine  ! 
Send  from  heaven  a  ray  of  thine, 

Lighten  our  obscurity : 
Come,  thou  Father  of  the  poor  ; 
Come,  thou  Giver  and  Renewer,  - 

Fountain  of  all  purity ! 

Visit  us,  Consoler  best ! 

Thou  the  bosom's  sweetest  guest, 

Sweetest  comfort  proffering : 
Thou  dost  give  the  weary  rest, 
Shade  to  all  with  heat  opprest, 

Solace  in  all  suffering. 

O  blest  Light  ineffable  ! 

"With  thy  faithful  amply  dwell  : 

Lord  of  our  humanity, 
Nothing  lives  without  thy  ray  ; 
Reft  of  thy  enlivening  day, 

All  is  void  and  vanity. 


218  Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus. 

Lava  quod  est  sordidum, 
Riga  quod  est  aridum, 

Sana  quod  est  saucium, 
Flecte  quod  est  rigidum, 
Fove  quod  est  frigidum, 

Rege  quod  est  devium  ! 

Da  tuis  fidelibus, 
In  te  confidentibus, 

Sacrum  septenarium : 
Da  virtutis  meritum, 
Da  salutis  exitum, 

Da  perenne  gaudium ! 


King  Hubert's  Hymn.  219 

What  is  foul,  oh  !  purify, 
Water  what  in  us  is  dry, 

All  our  hurts  alleviate, 
Bend  our  temper's  rigidness, 
Warm  our  nature's  frigidness, 

Bring  back  all  who  deviate  ! 

Give  them  who  in  thee  abide, 
All  that  do  in  thee  confide, 

Give  them  grace  increasingly : 
Give  to  virtue  its  reward, 
Saving  end  to  all  accord, 

Joy  in  heaven  unceasingly  ! 


FOR  INSPIRATION. 

Ben  sarian  dolci  le  preghiere  mie, 
Se  virtu  mi  prestassi  da  pregarte  ; 
Nel  mio  terreno  infertil  non  e  parte 

Da  produr  frutto  di  virtu  natie. 

Tu  il  seme  se'  dell'  opre  giuste  e  pie, 
Che  la  germoglian  dove  ne  fai  parte ; 
Nessun  proprio  valor  pud  seguitarte, 

Se  non  gli  mostri  le  tue  belle  vie. 

Tu  nella  mente  mia  pensieri  infondi 
Che  producano  in  me  si  vivi  effetti, 
Signor,  ch'  io  segua  i  tuoi  vestigi  santi ; 

E  dalla  lingua  mia  chiari  e  facondi 
Sciogli  della  tua  gloria  ardenti  detti, 
Perche  sempre  io  ti  lodi,  esalti,  e  canti. 


FOR  INSPIRATION. 

The  prayers  I  make  will  then  be  sweet  indeed, 
If  Thou  the  spirit  give  by  which  I  pray : 
My  unassisted  heart  is  barren  clay, 

That  of  its  native  self  can  nothing  feed : 

Of  good  and  pious  works  thou  art  the  seed, 
That  quickens  only  where  thou  sayst  it  may : 
Unless  thou  show  to  us  thine  own  true  way, 

No  man  can  find  it ;  Father  !  thou  must  lead. 

Do  thou  then  breathe   those  thoughts  into  my 
mind, 
By  which  such  virtue  may  in  me  be  bred, 
That  in  thy  holy  footsteps  I  may  tread ; 

The  fetters  of  my  tongue  do  thou  unbind, 
That  1  may  have  the  power  to  sing  of  thee, 
And  sound  thy  praises  everlastingly. 


FOR   INSPIRATION. 

O  living  will  that  shalt  endure 

When  all  that  seems  shall  suffer  shock, 
Rise  in  the  spiritual  rock, 

Flow  through  our  deeds,  and  make  them  pure  ! 

That  we  may  lift  from  out  the  dust 
A  voice  as  unto  him  that  hears, 
A  cry  above  the  conquered  years, 

To  one  that  with  us  works,  and  trust, 

With  faith  that  comes  of  self-control. 
The  truths  that  never  can  be  proved 
Until  we  close  with  all  we  loved, 

And  all  we  flow  from,  soul  in  soul. 


SELF-DEVOTION   AND   RESIGNATION. 

Come,  Self-Devotion,  high  and  pure, 
Thoughts  that  in  thankfulness  endure, 
Though  dearest  hopes  are  faithless  found, 
And  dearest  hearts  are  bursting  round  ; 
Come,  Resignation,  spirit  meek, 
And  let  me  kiss  thy  placid  cheek, 
And  read  in  thy  pale  eye  serene 
Their  blessing,  who  by  faith  can  wean 
Their  hearts  from  sense,  and  learn  to  love 
God  only,  and  the  joys  above. 

They  say.  who  know  the  life  divine, 

And  upward  gaze  with  eagle  eyne, 

That  by  each  golden  crown  on  high, 

Rich  with  celestial  jewelry, 

Which  for  our  Lord's  redeemed  is  set, 

There  hangs  a  radiant  coronet, 

All  gemmed  with  pure  and  living  light, 

Too  dazzling  for  a  sinner's  sight, 

Prepared  for  virgin  souls,  and  them 

Who  seek  the  martyr's  diadem. 


224      Self-Devotton  and   Resignation. 

Nor  deem,  who  to  that  bliss  aspire 

Must  win  their  way  through  blood  and  fire. 

The  writhings  of  a  wounded  heart 

Are  fiercer  than  a  foeman's  dart. 

Oft  in  life's  stillest  shade  reclining, 

In  desolation  unrepining, 

Without  a  hope  on  earth  to  find 

A  mirror  in  an  answering  mind, 

Meek  souls  there  are,  who  little  dream 

Their  daily  strife  an  angel's  theme, 

Or  that  the  rod  they  take  so  calm, 

Shall  prove  in  heaven  a  martyr's  palm. 

And  there  are  souls  that  seem  to  dwell 

Above  this  earth,  — so  rich  a  spell 

Floats  round  their  steps,  where'er  they  move, 

From  hopes  fulfilled,  and  mutual  love. 

Such,  if  on  high  their  thoughts  are  set, 

Nor  in  the  stream  the  source  forget, 

If  prompt  to  quit  the  bliss  they  know, 

Following  the  Lamb  where'er  he  go, 

By  purest  pleasures  unbeguiled 

To  idolize  or  wife  or  child  ; 

Such  wedded  souls  our  God  shall  own 

For  faultless  virgins  round  his  throne. 


NEW    CREATION. 

Tirou  spakest :  and  the  waters  rolled 

Back  from  the  Earth  away ; 
They  fled,  by  thy  strong  voice  controlled, 

Till  thou  didst  bid  them  stay  : 
Then  did  that  rushing  mighty  ocean 
Like  a  tame  creature  cease  its  motion, 
Nor  dared  to  pass  where'er  thy  hand 
Had  fixed  its  bound  of  slender  sand. 

And  freshly  risen  from  out  the  deep 

The  land  lay  tranquil  now, 
Like  a  new-christened  child  asleep, 

With  the  dew  upon  its  brow  : 
As  when  in  after-time  the  Earth 
Rose  from  her  second  watery  birth, 
In  pure  baptismal  garments  drest, 
And  calmly  waiting  to  be  blest. 

Again  thou  spakest.  Lord  of  Power, 
And  straight  the  land  was  seen 


226  New  Creation. 

All  clad  with  tree,  and  herb,  and  flower, 

A  robe  of  lustrous  green  : 
Like  souls  wherein  the  hidden  strength 
Of  their  new  birth  has  waked  at  length, 
When,  robed  in  holiness,  they  tell 
What  might  did  in  those  waters  dwell. 

Lord,  o'er  the  waters  of  my  soul 

The  word  of  power  be  said  ; 
Its  thoughts  and  passions  bid  thou  roll 

Each  in  its  channelled  bed  ; 
Till  that  in  peaceful  order  flowing, 
They  time  their  glad,  obedient  going 
To  thy  commands,  whose  voice  to-day 
Bade  the  tumultuous  floods  obey. 

For  restless  as  the  moaning  sea, 

The  wild  and  wayward  will 
From  side  to  side  is  wearily 

Changing  and  tossing  still ; 
But  sway'd  by  thee,  't  is  like  the  river 
That  down  its  green  banks  flows  forever, 
And,  calm  and  constant,  tells  to  all 
The  blessedness  of  such  sweet  thrall. 

Then  in  my  heart,  Spirit  of  Might, 
Awake  the  life  within, 


New  Creation.  227 

And  bid  a  spring-tide,  calm  and  bright, 

Of  holiness  begin  : 
So  let  it  lie  with  Heaven's  grace 
Full  shining  on  its  quiet  face, 
Like  the  young  Earth  in  peace  profound, 
Amid  the  assuaged  waters  round. 


FOR   GRACE. 

My  stock  lies  dead,  and  no  increase 

Doth  my  dull  husbandry  improve  : 
Oh  let  thy  graces  without  cease 
Drop  from  above ! 

If  still  the  sun  should  hide  his  face, 

Thy  house  would  but  a  dungeon  prove, 
Thy  works  night's  captives  :  oh  let  grace 
Drop  from  above ! 

The  dew  doth  every  morning  fall : 

And  shall  the  dew  outstrip  thy  dove  ? 
The  dew  for  which  grass  cannot  call 
Drop  from  above  ! 

Death  is  still  working  like  a  mole, 

And  digs  my  grave  at  each  remove : 
Let  grace  work  too,  and  on  my  soul 
Drop  from  above  ! 


For  Grace.  229 

Sin  is  still  hammering  my  heart 
Unto  a  hardness  void  of  love  : 
Let  suppling  grace,  to  cross  his  art, 
Drop  from  above  ! 

Oh  come  !  for  thou  dost  know  the  way ; 

Or  if  to  me  thou  wilt  not  move, 
Remove  me  where  I  need  not  say 
Drop  from  above  ! 


FOB  ENTIRE   DEVOTION. 

I  pray  not,  Lord,  to  be  redeemed  from  mortal 
sorrow ; 
Redeem   me   only  from  my  vain    and   mean 
self-love  ; 
Then  let  each  night  of  grief  lead  in  a  mourning 
morrow, 
Fear  shall  not  shake  my  trust  in  thee,  my 
peace  above. 

Yet  while  the  Resurrection  waves  its  signs  au- 
gust, 
Like  morning's  dewy  banners  on  a  cloudless 
sky, 
My  weak  feet  cling  enamored  to  the  parching 
dust, 
And,  on  the  sand,  poor  pebbles  lure  my  roving 
eye. 

Ye  witnessings  of  silent,  sad  Gethsemane, 

That  shaded  garden  whence  light  breaks  for 
all  our  earth, 


For  Entire  Devotion.  231 

Around  my  anguish  let  your  faithful  influence  be  ! 
Ye  prayers  and  sighs  divine,  be  my  immortal 
birth ! 

Vales  of  repentance  mount  to  hills  of  high  de- 
sire ; 
Seven  times    seven   suffering  years  earn  the 
Sabbatic  rest ; 
Earth's  fickle,  cruel  lap,  —  alternate  frost  and 
fire, — 
Tempers  beloved    disciples   for  the  Master's 
breast. 

O  Way  for  all  that  live  !  heal  us  by  pain  and  loss  ; 
Fill  all  our  years  with  toil,  and  bless  us  with 
^        thy  rod : 
Thy  bonds  bring  wider  freedom  ;    climbing,  by 
the  cross, 
Wins  that  brave  height  where  looms  the  city 
of  our  God ! 

O  Sunshine,  rising  ever  on  our  nights  of  sadness  ! 
O  best  of  all  our  good,  and  pardoner  of  our 
sin  ! 
Look  down  with  pity  on  our  unbelieving  mad- 
ness, 
To  Heaven's  great  welcome  take  us,  homesick 
pilgrims,  in ! 


232  For  Entire  Devotion. 

Spirit  that  overcame   the  world's  long  tribula- 
tion, 
Try  faltering  faith,  and  make  it  firm  through 
much  enduring ; 
Feed  weary  hearts  with  patient  hopes  of  thy  sal- 
vation ; 
Make    strait  submission,  more  than  luxury's 
ease,  alluring. 

Hallow  our  wit  with  prayer ;  our  mastery  steep 
in  meekness  ; 
Pour  on  our  study  inspiration's  holy  light ; 
Hew  out  for  Christ's  dear  Church  a  future  with- 
out weakness, 
Quarried  from  thine  eternal  Beauty,  Order, 
Might ! 

Met  there,  mankind's  great  brotherhood  of  souls 
and  powers, 
Raise  thou  full  praises  from  its  farthest  cor- 
ners dim ; 
Pour  down,  O  steadfast  Sun,  thy  beams  on  all 
its  towers  ; 
Roll   through   its   world-wide    spaces  Faith's 
majestic  hymn ! 


WATCH,   PRAY,   AND   WORK! 

Cheek  grow  pale,  but  heart  be  vigorous ! 

Body  fall,  but  soul  have  peace  ! 
Welcome,  pain  !  thou  searcher  rigorous  ! 

Slay  me,  but  my  faith  increase. 

Sin,  o'er  sense  so  softly  stealing, 

Doubt,  that  would  my  strength  impair, 

Hence  at  once  from  life  and  feeling ! 
Now  my  cross  I  gladly  bear. 

Dp,  my  soul !  with  clear  sedateness 

Read  Heaven's  law,  writ  bright  and  broad ; 

Up  !  a  sacrifice  to  greatness, 

Truth,  and  goodness,  —  up  to  God ! 

Up  to  labor !  from  thee  shaking 
Off  the  bonds  of  sloth,  be  brave ! 

Give  thyself  to  prayer  and  waking ; 
Toil  some  fainting  heart  to  save  ! 


EIN'   FESTE  BURG  1ST   UNSER   GOTT. 

Ein'  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott, 
Ein'  gate  Wehr  und  T\raffen ; 

Er  hilft  uns  frei  aus  aller  Xoth 
Die  uns  jetzt  hat  betroffen. 

Der  alt'  bose  Feind, 

Mit  Ernst  er's  jetzt  meint ; 

Gross'  Macht  und  viel  List 

Sein'  grausam  Riistung  ist ; 

Auf  Erd'  ist  nicht  sein's  Gleichen. 

Mit  unsrer  Macht  ist  nichts  gethan, 
Wir  sind  gar  bald  verloren  ; 

Es  streit't  fur  uns  der  rechte  Mann, 
Den  Gott  selbst  hat  erkoren. 

Fragst  du,  wer  der  ist  ? 

Er  heisst  Jesus  Christ, 

Der  Herr  Zebaoth, 

Und  ist  kein  andrer  Gott : 
Das  Feld  muss  er  behalten. 


A   MIGHTY  FORTRESS   IS   OUR   GOD. 

A  mighty  fortress  is  our  God, 

A  bulwark  never  failing ; 
Our  helper  he  amid  the  flood 

Of  mortal  ills  prevailing. 
For  still  our  ancient  foe 
Doth  seek  to  work  us  woe  ; 
His  craft  and  power  are  great, 
And.  armed  with  cruel  hate, 

On  earth  is  not  his  equal. 

Did  we  in  our  own  strength  confide, 
( )ur  striving  would  be  losing  ; 

Were  not  the  right  man  on  our  side, 
The  man  of  God's  own  choosing. 

Dost  ask  who  that  may  be  ? 

Christ  Jesus,  it  is  he, 

Lord  Sabaotb  his  name, 

Prom  age  to  age  the  same, 
And  he  must  win  the  battle. 


236     Em'  feste  Burg  ist  miser  Gott. 

Und  wenn  die  Welt  voll  Teufel  war', 
Und  wollt'n  uns  gar  verschlingen, 

So  fiirchten  wir  uns  nicht  so  sehr, 
Es  soil  uns  doch  gelingen. 

Der  Furst  dieser  Welt, 

Wie  sauer  er  sich  stellt, 

Thut  er  uns  doch  nichts  ; 

Das  macht,  er  ist  gericht't, 
Ein  Wortlein  kann  ihn  fallen. 

Das  Wort  sie  sollen  lassen  stahn, 
Und  kein'n  Dank  dazu  haben ; 
Er  ist  bei  uns  wohl  auf  dem  Plan, 

Mit  seinem  Geist  und  Gaben. 
Nehmen  sie  den  Leib, 
Gut,  Ehr',  Kind  und  Weib  ; 
Lass  fahren  dahin, 
Sie  haben's  kein'n  Gewinn  ; 

Das  Reich  muss  uns  doch  bleiben. 


A  Mighty  Fortress  is  our  God.     i2o7 

And  though  this  world,  with  devils  filled, 

Should  threaten  to  undo  us, 
We  will  not  fear,  for  (Jod  hath  willed 

His  truth  to  triumph  through  us. 
The  Prince  of  Darkness  grim, 
We  tremble  not  for  him ; 
His  rage  we  can  endure, 
For,  lo  !  his  doom  is  sure, 

One  little  word  shall  fell  him. 

That  word  above  all  earthly  powers  — - 
No  thanks  to  them  —  abideth  ; 

The  spirit  and  the  gifts  are  ours 
Through  Him  who  with  us  sideth. 

Let  goods  and  kindred  go, 

This  mortal  life  also  ; 

The  body  they  may  kill, 

God's  truth  abideth  still, 
His  kingdom  is  forever. 


L6 


MORGENLIED. 

Seele,  du  musst  munter  werden, 
Denn  der  Erden 

Blickt  hervor  ein  neuer  Tag ; 

Kornm,  dem  Schopfer  dieser  Strahlen 
Zu  bezahlen, 

Was  dein  schwacher  Trieb  vermag. 

Deine  Pflicht  kannst  du  erlernen 
Yon  den  Sternen, 

Deren  Gold  der  Sonne  weicht ; 

So  lass  audi  vor  Gott  zerrinnen, 
Was  den  Sinnen 

Hier  im  Finstern  schone  deueht. 

Schau  wie  das  was  Athem  ziehet 

Sich  bemiihet 
Um  der  Sonnen  holdes  Licht ; 
Wie  sich,  was  nur  Wachsthum  spiiret, 

Freudig  riihret, 
Wenn  ihr  Glanz  die  Schatten  bricht. 


! 


MORNING  HYMN. 

Come,  my  soul,  thou  must  be  waking ; 
Now  is  breaking 

O'er  the  earth  another  day  ; 
Come,  to  Him  who  made  this  splendor, 
See  thou  render 

All  thy  feeble  powers  can  pay. 

From  the  stars  thy  course  be  learning ; 
Dimly  burning, 

Neath  the  sun  their  light  grows  pale  : 
So  let  all  that  sense  delighted, 
While  benighted, 

From  God's  presence  fade  and  fail. 

Lo !  how  all  of  breath  partaking, 
Gladly  waking, 

Hail  the  sun's  enlivening  light! 
Plants,  whose  life  mere  sap  doth  nourish, 
Rise  and  flourish, 

AY  hen  lie  breaks  the  shades  of  night. 


240  Morgenlied. 

So  lass  dich  auch  fertig  finden 

Anzuziinden 
Deinen  Weihrauch,  weil  die  Nacht, 
Da  dich  Gott  vor  Ungliicks-stiirmen 

Wollen  schirmen, 
Nun  so  gliicklich  hingebracht. 

Bitte  dass  er  dir  Gedeihen 
Mag  verleihen, 

Wenn  du  auf  was  gutes  zielst ; 

Aber  dass  er  dich  mag  storen, 
Und  bekehren, 

Wenn  du  bose  Regung  fiihlst, 

Denk  dass  er  auf  deinen  Wegen 
Stets  zugegen, 

Dass  er  alien  Siindenwust, 

Ja  die  Schmach  verborgner  Flecken 
Kann  entdecken, 

Und  errathen  was  du  thust. 

Krankt  dich  etwas  diesen  Morgen, 
Lass  Gott  sorgen, 

Der  es  wie  die  Sonne  macht, 

Welche  pflegt  der  Berge  Spitzen 
Zu  erhitzen, 

Und  auch  in  die  Thaler  lacht. 


, 


Morning  Hymn.  241 

Thou,  too,  hail  the  light  returning, 
Ready  burning 

Be  the  incense  of  thy  powers ; 
For  the  night  is  safely  ended ; 

God  hath  tended 
With  his  care  thy  helpless  hours. 

Pray  that  he  may  prosper  ever 
Each  endeavor. 

When  thine  aim  is  good  and  true  ; 
But  that  he  may  ever  thwart  thee, 
And  convert  thee, 

When  thou  evil  wouldst  pursue. 

Think  that  he  thy  ways  beholdeth  ; 
He  unfoldeth 

Every  fault  that  lurks  within  ; 
Everv  stain  of  shame  glossed  over 
Can  discover. 

And  discern  each  deed  of  sin. 

If  aught  of  care  this  morn  oppress  thee, 
To  him  address  thee, 

Who,  like  the  sun,  is  good  to  all : 
He  gilds  the  mountain-tops,  the  while 
His  gracious  smile 

Will  on  the  humblest  valley  fall. 


242  Morgenlied. 

Um  das  was  er  dir  verliehen 
Wird  er  ziehen 

Eine  Burg  die  Flammen  streut : 

Du  wirst  zwischen  Legionen 
Engel  wohnen, 

Die  der  Satan  selber  scheut. 


Morning  Hymn.  243 

Round  the  gifts  his  bounty  showers, 
Walls  and  towers 

Girt  with  flames  thy  God  shall  rear : 
Angel  legions  to  defend  thee 
Shall  attend  thee, 

Hosts  whom  Satan's  self  shall  fear. 


MORGENLIED. 

Wenn  ich  einst  von  jenem  Schlummer, 
Welcher  Tod  heisst,  aufersteh', 

Und  von  dieses  Lebens  Kummer 
Frei,  den  schonern  Morgen  sen', 

O  dann  vvach'  ich  anders  anf ; 

Schon  am  Ziel  ist  dann  mem  Lauf ; 

Traume  sind  des  Pilgers  Sorgen, 

Grosser  Tag,  an  deinem  Morten. 

Hilf  dass  keiner  meiner  Tage, 

Geber  der  Unsterblichkeit, 
eTenem  Richtenden  einst  sage, 

Er  sei  ganz  von  mir  entweiht ! 
Aach  noch  heute  wacht'  ich  auf, 
Dank  dir,  Herr ;  zu  dir  hinauf 
Fuhr'  mich  jeder  meiner  Tage, 
Jede  Freude,  jede  Plage. 

Dass  ich  gern  sie  vor  mir  sehe, 
AVenn  ihr  letzter  nun  erscheint, 


MORNING   HYMN. 

When  I  rise  again  to  life 

From  the  tranquil  sleep  of  death, 
And.  released  from  earthly  strife, 

Breathe  that  morning's  balmy  breath, 
I  shall  wake  to  other  thought ; 
The  race  is  run,  the  fight  is  fought ; 
All  the  pilgrim's  cares  are  dreams, 
When  that  dawn  of  morning  gleams. 

_Help  that  no  departed  day, 

God  of  endless  life  and  joy, 
To  the  righteous  Judge  may  say, 
T  was  profaned  by  my  employ. 
To  another  morn  I  wake, 
And  to  thee  my  offering  make  : 
Oh  may  all  my  days  that  flee, 
Joys  and  sorrows,  lead  to  thee- 

» 

Gladly  may  I  see  them  fled, 

When  the  twilight  o'er  me  creeps, 


246  Morgenlied. 

Wenn  zum  dunkeln  Thai'  ich  gehe, 

Und  mein  Freund  nun  um  mich  weint ! 
Lindre  dann  des  Todes  Pein, 
Und  lass  mich  den  starksten  sein, 
Mich,  der  ihn  gen  Himmel  weise, 
Und  dich,  Herr  des  Todes,  preise ! 


Morning  Hymn.  217 

When  the  darkening  vale  I  tread, 

And  my  friend  beside  me  weeps  ! 
Death  assuage,  the  pang  remove, 
Let  me  then  the  stronger  prove, 
Vanquishing  with  heavenward  breath, 
While  I  praise  thee,  Lord  of  death ! 


EVENING  HYMN. 

'T  is  gone,  that  bright  and  orbed  blaze, 
Fast  fading  from  our  wistful  gaze  ; 
Yon  mantling  cloud  has  hid  from  sight 
The  last  faint  pulse  of  quivering  light. 

Sun  of  my  soul,  thou  Saviour  dear, 
It  is  not  night,  if  thou  be  near : 
Oh  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 
To  hide  thee  from  thy  servant's  eyes  ! 

When  the  soft  dews  of  kindly  sleep 
My  wearied  eyelids  gently  steep, 
Be  my  last  thought,  how  sweet  to  rest 
Forever  on  my  Saviour's  breast ! 

Abide  with  me  from  morn  till  eve, 
For  without  thee  I  cannot  live  ; 
Abide  with  me  when  night  is  nigh, 
For  without  thee  I  dare  not  die ! 


ABIDE   WITH   ME. 

Abide  with  me  !   Fast  falls  the  eventide; 
The  darkness  thickens  ;  Lord,  with  me  abide  : 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  oh  abide  with  me ! 

Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away: 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see ; 
O  thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me ! 

Not  a  brief  glance  I  beg,  a  passing  word  ; 
But  as  thou  dwelt'st  with  thy  disciples,  Lord, 
Familiar,  condescending,  patient,  free, 
Come,  not  to  sojourn,  but  abide,  with  me. 

Come,  not  in  terrors,  as  the  King  of  kings ; 
But  kind  and  good,  with  healing  in  thy  wings, 
Tears  for  all  woes,  a  heart  for  every  plea  ; 
Come,  friend  of  sinners,  and  thus  bide  with  me. 


250  Abide  with  Me. 

Thou  on  my  head  in  early  youth  didst  smile, 
And,  though  rebellious  and  perverse  meanwhile, 
Thou  hast  not  left  me,  oft  as  I  left  thee  : 
On  to  the  close,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me ! 

I  need  thy  presence  every  passing  hour : 
What  but  thy  grace  can  foil  the  Tempter's  power  ? 
Who  like  thyself  my  guide  and  stay  can  be  ? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  oh  abide  with  me ! 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  thee  at  hand  to  bless, 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness  : 
Where  is  death's  sting  ?   where,  grave,  thy  vic- 
tory ? 
I  triumph  still,  if  thou  abide  with  me. 

Hold  thou  thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes ; 

Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the 
skies  ! 

Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shad- 
ows flee ! 

In  life,  in  death,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me. 


EMMAtJS. 

Abide  with  us,  O  wondrous  guest! 
A  stranger  still,  though  long  possessed; 
Our  hearts  thy  love  unknown  desire, 
And  marvel  how  the  sacred  fire 
Should  burn  within  us,  while  we  stray 
From  that  sad  spot  where  Jesus  lay. 

So  when  our  youth,  through  bitter  loss, 
Or  hopes  deferred,  draws  near  the  Cross, 
We  lose  the  Lord  our  childhood  knew, 
And  God's  own  word  may  seem  untrue  : 
Yet  Christ  himself  shall  soothe  the  way 
Towards  the  evening  of  our  day. 

And  though  we  travel  towards  the  west, 
'T  is  still  for  toil  and  not  for  rest ; 
No  fate  except  with  life  is  done; 
At  Emmaus  is  our  work  begun  ; 
Then  let  us  watch,  lest  tears  should  hide 
The  Lord  who  journeys  by  our  side! 


EVENING   HYMN. 

The  night  is  come  ;  like  to  the  day 
Depart  not  thou,  great  God,  away  : 
Let  not  my  sins,  black  as  the  night, 
Eclipse  the  lustre  of  thy  light. 
Keep  still  in  my  horizon  ;  for  to  me 
The  sun  makes  not  the  day,  but  thee. 
Thou  whose  nature  cannot  sleep, 
On  my  temples  sentry  keep ; 
Guard  me  'gainst  those  watchful  foes 
Whose  eyes  are  open  while  mine  close. 
Let  no  dreams  my  head  infest, 
But  such  as  Jacob's  temples  blest ; 
While  I  do  rest,  my  soul  advance  ; 
Make  my  sleep  a  holy  trance ; 
That  I  may,  my  rest  being  wrought, 
Awake  into  some  holy  thought ; 
And  with  active  vigor  run 
My  course,  as  doth  the  nimble  sun. 
Sleep  is  a  death ;  oh  make  me  try, 
By  sleeping,  what  it  is  to  die  ; 


Evening  Hymn.  253 

And  as  gently  lay  my  head 

On  my  grave,  as  now  my  bed. 

Howe'er  I  rest,  great  God,  let  me 

Awake  again,  at  least  with  thee  ; 

And  thus  assured,  behold,  I  lie 

Securely,  or  to  wake  or  die. 

These  are  my  drowsy  days  ;  in  vain 

I  do  now  wake,  to  sleep  again  : 

Oh  come  that  hour,  when  I  shall  never 

Sleep  again,  but  wake  for  ever  ! 

17 


SLEEP. 

Of  all  the  thoughts  of  God  that  are 
Borne  inward  unto  souls  afar, 
Along  the  Psalmist's  music  deep, 
Now  tell  me  if  that  any  is, 
For  gift  or  grace,  surpassing  this,  — 
"  He  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep  ?  " 

What  would  we  give  to  our  beloved  ? 
The  hero's  heart,  to  be  unmoved,  — 
The  poet's  star-tuned  harp,  to  sweep,  — 
The  patriot's  voice,  to  teach  and  rouse,  — - 
The  monarch's  crown,  to  light  the  brows  ? 
"  He  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep." 

What  do  we  give  to  our  beloved  ? 
A  little  faith,  all  undisproved,  — 
A  little  dust,  to  overweep,  — 
And  bitter  memories,  to  make 
The  whole  earth  blasted  for  our  sake. 
"  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 


Sleep.  255 

Sleep  soft,  beloved  !  we  sometimes  say, 

But  have  no  time  to  charm  away 

Sad  dreams  that  through  the  eyelids  creep : 

But  never  doleful  dream  again 

Shall  break  the  happy  slumber,  when 

"  He  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep." 

O  earth,  so  full  of  dreary  noises ! 
O  men,  with  wailing  in  your  voices ! 
O  delved  gold  the  wailers  heap  ! 
O  strife,  O  curse,  that  o'er  it  fall ! 
God  makes  a  silence  through  you  all, 
And  "  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep." 

His  dews  drop  mutely  on  the  hill, 
His  cloud  above  it  saileth  still, 
Though  on  its  slope  men  sow  and  reap : 
More  softly  than  the  dew  is  shed, 
Or  cloud  is  floated  overhead, 
"  He  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep." 

For  me,  my  heart,  that  erst  did  go 
Most  like  a  tired  child  at  a  show, 
That  sees  through  tears  the  jugglers  leap, 
Would  now  its  wearied  vision  close, 
Would  childlike  on  his  love  repose 
Who  ;;  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep." 


256  Sleep. 

And  friends,  dear  friends,  when  it  shall  be 
That  this  low  breath  is  gone  from  me, 
And  round  my  bier  ye  come  to  weep, 
Let  one,  most  loving  of  you  all, 
Say,  "  Not  a  tear  must  o'er  her  fall : 
He  giveth  his  beloved,  sleep." 


PRAISES   FOR  THIS   WORLD. 

Praised  be  the  mosses  soft 

In  thy  forest  pathways  oft, 

And  the  thorns,  which  make  us  think 

Of  the  thornless  river-brink, 

Where  the  ransomed  tread ! 
Praised  be  thy  sunny  gleams, 
And  the  storm,  that  worketh  dreams 

Of  calm  unfinished  ! 
Praised  be  thine  active  days, 
And  thy  night-time's  solemn  need, 
When  in  God's  dear  book  we  read 

No  night  shall  be  therein. 
Praised  be  thy  dwellings  warm, 
By  household  fagot's  cheerful  blaze, 
Where,  to  hear  of  pardoned  sin, 
Pauseth  oft  the  merry  din, 
Save  the  babe's  upon  the  arm, 
Who  croweth  to  the  crackling  wood. 
Yea,  —  and  better  understood, 


258  Praises  for  this  World. 

Praised  be  thy  dwellings  cold, 
Hid  beneath  the  church-yard  mould, 
Where  the  bodies  of  the  saints, 
Separate  from  earthly  taints, 
Lie  asleep,  in  blessing  bound, 
Waiting  for  the  trumpet's  sound 
To  free  them  into  blessing  ;  —  none 
Weeping  more  beneath  the  sun. 


FOREGLEAMS  OF  A  HEAVENLY  COUNTRY. 

Morn,  when  before  the  sun  his  orb  unshrouds, 
Swifl  as  a  beacon  torch  the  light  has  sped, 

Kindling  the  dusky  summits  of  the  clouds 
Each  to  a  fiery  red,  — 

The  slanted  columns  of  the  noonday  light, 
Let  down  into  the  bosom  of  the  hills, 

Or  sunset,  that  with  golden  vapor  bright 
The  purple  mountains  fills, — 

These  made  him  say,  —  If  God  has  so  arrayed 
A  fading  world  that  quickly  passes  by,  — 

Such  rich  provision  of  delight  has  made 
For  every  human  eye,  — 

What  shall  the  eyes  that  wait  for  him  survey, 
Where  his  own  presence  gloriously  appears, 

In  worlds  that  were  not  founded  for  a  day, 
But  for  eternal  years  ! 


260     Foregleanis  of  a  Heavenly  Country. 

And  if  at  seasons  this  world's  undelight 
Oppressed  him,  or  the  hollow  at  its  heart, 

One  glance  at  those  enduring  mansions  bright 
Made  gloomier  thoughts  depart ; 

Till  many  times  the  sweetness  of  the  thought 
Of  an  eternal  country,  where  it  lies 

Removed  from  care  and  mortal  anguish,  brought 
Sweet  tears  into  his  eyes. 

Thus,  not  unsolaced,  he  longwhile  abode, 
Filling  all  dreary,  melancholy  time, 

And  empty  spaces  of  the  heart,  with  God, 
And  with  this  hope  sublime. 


ON   A   BEAUTIFUL   DAY. 

0  unseen  Spirit!  now  a  calm  divine 

Comes  forth  from  thee,  rejoicing  earth  and  air  ! 

Trees,  hills,  and  houses,  all  distinctly  shine, 
And  thy  great  ocean  slumbers  everywhere. 

The  mountain  ridge  against  the  purple  sky 
Stands  clear  and  strong,  with  darkened  rocks 
and  dells, 

And  cloudless  brightness  opens  wide  on  high 
A  home  aerial,  where  thy  presence  dwells. 

The  chime  of  bells  remote,  the  murmuring  sea, 
The  song  of  birds  in  whispering  copse  and 
wood, 

The  distant  voice  of  children's  thoughtless  glee, 
And  maiden's  song,  are  all  one  voice  of  good. 

Amid  the  leaves'  green  mass  a  sunny  play 
Of  flash  and  shadow  stirs  like  inward  life  ; 


262  On  a  Beautiful  Day. 

The  ship's  white  sail  glides  onward  far  away, 
Unhaunted  bv  a  dream  of  storm  or  strife. 


O  Thou !  the  primal  fount  of  life  and  peace, 
Who  shedd'st  thy  breathing  quiet  all  around, 

In  me  command  that  pain  and  conflict  cease, 
And  turn  to  music  every  jarring  sound. 

How  longs  each  gulf  within  the  weary  soul 
To  taste  the  life  of  this  benignant  hour; 

To  be  at  one  with  thine  untroubled  Whole, 
And  in  itself  to  know  thy  hushing  power ! 

Amid  the  joys  of  all,  my  grief  revives, 

And  shadows  thrown  from  me  thy  sunshine 
mar  ; 

With  this  serene  to-day  dark  memory  strives, 
And  draws  its  legions  of  dismay  from  far. 

Prepare,  O  Truth  Supreme  !  through  shame  and 
pain 
A  heart  attuned  to  thy  celestial  calm ; 
Let  not  reflection's  pangs  be  roused  in  vain, 
But  heal  the  wounded  breast  with  searching 
balm. 


On  a  Beautiful  Day.  263 

So,  firm  in  steadfast  hope,  in  thought  secure, 
In  full  accord  to  all  thy  world  of  joy, 

May  I  be  nerved  to  labors  high  and  pure, 
And  thou  thy  child  to  do  thy  work  employ. 

So  might  in  many  hearts  be  kindled  then 

The  lambent  fire  of  faith, — not  rashly  strong, — 

So  might  be  taught  to  souls  of  doubtful  men 
Thy  tranquil  bliss,  thy  love's  divinest  song. 

In  One,  who  walked  on  earth  a  man  of  woe, 
Was  holier  peace  than  e'en  this  hour  inspires ; 

From  him  to  me  let  inward  quiet  flow, 

And  give  the  might  my  failing  will  requires. 

So  this  great  All  around,  so  He,  and  Thou, 
The  central  source  and  awful  bound  of  things, 

May  fill  my  heart  with  rest  as  deep  as  now 
To  land,  and  sea,  and  air,  thy  presence  brings ! 


SHORT-LIVED   FLOWERS. 

I  made  a  posy  while  the  day  ran  by  : 
Here  will  I  smell  my  remnant  out,  and  tie 

My  life  within  this  band ; 
But  Time  did  beckon  to  the  flowers,  and  they 
By  noon  most  cunningly  did  steal  away, 

And  withered  in  my  hand. 

My  hand  was  next  to  them,  and  then  my  heart ; 
I  took,  without  more  thinking,  in  good  part 

Time's  gentle  admonition, 
Who  did  so  sweetly  death's  sad  taste  convey, 
Making  my  mind  to  smell  my  fatal  day, 

Yet  sug'ring  the  suspicion. 

Farewell,  dear  flowers !   sweetly  your  time   ye 

spent, 
Fit  while  ye  lived  for  smell  or  ornament, 

And  after  death  for  cures : 
I  follow  straight,  without  complaints  or  grief, 
Since  if  my  scent  be  good,  I  care  not  if 

It  be  as  short  as  yours ! 


DEAD   LEAVES. 

Ye  dainty  mosses,  lichens  gray, 

Pressed  each  to  each  in  tender  fold, 

And  peacefully  thus,  day  by  day, 
Returning  to  your  mould  ; 

Brown  leaves,  that  with  aerial  grace 

Slip  from  your  branch  like  birds  a-wing, 

Each  leaving  in  the  appointed  place 
Its  bud  of  future  spring  ;  — 

If  we,  God's  conscious  creatures,  knew 
But  half  your  faith  in  our  decay, 

We  should  not  tremble  as  we  do 
When  summoned  clay  to  clay. 

But  with  an  equal  patience  sweet 
We  should  put  off  this  mortal  gear, 

In  whatsoe'er  new  form  is  meet 
Content  to  reappear  ;  — 


266  Dead  Leaves. 

Knowing  each  germ  of  life  He  gives 
Must  have  in  him  its  source  and  rise, 

Being  that  of  his  being  lives, 
May  change,  but  never  dies. 

Ye  dead  leaves,  dropping  soft  and  slow, 
Ye  mosses  gjreen  and  lichens  fair, 

Go  to  your  graves,  as  I  will  go, 
For  God  is  also  there. 


THE  NIGHTLY   SKIES. 

Wn ex  up  to  nightly  skies  we  gaze, 
Where  stars  pursue  their  endless  ways, 
We  think  we  see  from  earth's  low  clod 
The  wide  and  shining  home  of  God. 

But  could  we  rise  to  moon  or  sun, 
Or  path  where  planets  duly  run, 
Still  heaven  would  spread  above  us  far, 
And  earth  remote  would  seem  a  star. 

'T  is  vain  to  dream  those  tracts  of  space, 
With  all  their  worlds,  approach  his  face  : 
One  glory  fills  each  wheeling  ball, 
One  love  has  shaped  and  moves  them  all. 

This  earth,  with  all  its  dust  and  tears, 
Is  his  no  less  than  yonder  spheres  ; 
And  rain-drops  weak,  and  grains  of  sand, 
Are  stamped  by  his  immediate  hand. 


268  Tlie  Nightly  Skies. 

The  rock,  the  wave,  the  little  flower, 
All  fed  by  streams  of  living  power 
That  spring  from  one  Almighty  will, 
Whate'er  his  thought  conceives,  fulfil. 

And  is  this  all  that  man  can  claim  ? 
Is  this  our  longing's  final  aim  ? 
To  be  like  all  things  round,  —  no  more 
Than  pebbles  cast  on  Time's  gray  shore  ? 

Can  man,  no  more  than  beast,  aspire 
To  know  his  being's  awful  Sire  ? 
And,  born  and  lost  on  Nature's  breast, 
No  blessing  seek  but  there  to  rest  ? 

Not  this  our  doom,  thou  God  benign, 
Whose  rays  on  us  unclouded  shine : 
Thy  breath  sustains  yon  fiery  dome, 
But  man  is  most  thy  favored  home. 

We  view  those  halls  of  painted  air, 
And  own  thy  presence  makes  them  fair ; 
But  dearer  still  to  thee,  O  Lord ! 
Is  he  whose  thoughts  to  thine  accord. 


AT   A   SOLEMN   MUSIC. 

Blest  pair  of  Sirens,  pledges  of  Heaven's  joy, 
Sphere  -  born    harmonious    sisters,    Voice    and 

Verse, 
Wed  your  divine  sounds,  and  mixt  power  em- 
ploy, 
Dead   things    with    inbreathed    sense    able    to 

pierce  ; 
And  to  our  high-raised  phantasy  present 
That  undisturbed  song  of  pure  concent, 
Aye  sung  before  the  sapphire-colored  throne 
To  Him  that  sits  thereon,  — 
With  saintly  shout,  and  solemn  jubilee, 
Where  the  bright  seraphim  in  burning  row 
Their  loud  uplifted  angel-trumpets  blow ; 
And  the  cherubic  host  in  thousand  quires 
Touch  their  immortal  harps  of  golden  wires; 
With    those    just    spirits    that   wear   victorious 

palms. 
Hymns  devout  and  holy  psalms 
Singing  everlastingly  ; 
is 


270  At  a  Solemn  Music. 

That  we  on  earth  with  undiscording  voice 
May  rightly  answer  that  melodious  noise ; 
As  once  we  did,  till  disproportioned  sin 
Jarred  against  nature's  chime,  and  with  harsh 

din 
Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made 
To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their   motion 

swayed 
In  perfect  diapason,  whilst  they  stood 
In  first  obedience,  and  their  state  of  good. 
Oh  may  we  soon  again  renew  that  song, 
And  keep  in  tune  with  Heaven,  till  God  ere  long 
To  his  celestial  concert  us  unite, 
To  live  with  him,  and  sing  in  endless  morn  of 

light. 


A   THANKSGIVING. 

Lord,  for  the  erring  thought 
Not  into  evil  wrought ; 
Lord,  for  the  wicked  will 
Betrayed  and  baffled  still ; 
For  the  heart  from  itself  kept, 
Our  Thanksgiving  accept 

For  ignorant  hopes  that  were 
Broken  to  our  blind  prayer ; 
For  pain,  death,  sorrow,  sent 
Unto  our  chastisement ; 
For  all  loss  of  seeming  good, 
Quicken  our  gratitude  ! 


CHRISTMAS,  EASTER,  AND  PENTECOST. 

0  du  frohliche,  o  du  selige, 
Gnadenbringende  Weihnachtszeit ! 

Welt  ging  verloren, 

Christ  ist  geboren  : 
Freue,  freue  dich,  o  Christenheit ! 

O  du  frohliche,  o  du  selige, 
Gnadenbringende  Osternzeit ! 

Welt  liegt  in  Banden, 

Christ  ist  erstanden  : 
Freue,  freue  dich,  o  Christenheit ! 

O  du  frohliche,  o  du  selige, 
Gnadenbringende  Pfingstenzeit ! 

Christ,  unser  Meister, 

Heiligt  die  Geister : 
Freue,  freue  dich,  o  Christenheit ! 


CHRISTMAS   EVE. 

The  sun  is  set,  the  stars  begin 

Their  stations  in  His  watch  on  high, 

As  once  around  that  Bethlehem  inn ; 
The  vesper  hour  is  nigh. 

A  little  maid  with  eager  gaze 

Comes  hurrying  to  the  house  of  prayer, 
Shaping  in  heart  a  wild  green  maze 

Of  woodland  branches  there. 

One  look,  —  a  cloud  comes  o'er  her  dream  ; 

Xo  burnished  leaves,  so  fresh  and  clear, 
No  berries,  with  their  ripe  red  gleam :  — 

u  There  is  no  Christmas  here." 

What  if  that  little  maiden's  Lord, 
The  awful  Child  on  Mary's  knee, 

Even  now  take  up  the  accusing  word  :  — 
••  No  Christmas  here  I  see. 


274  Christmas  Eve. 

"  Where  are  the  fruits  I  yearly  seek, 
As  holy  seasons  pass  away,  — 

Eyes  turned  from  ill,  lips  pure  and  meek, 
A  heart  that  strives  to  pray  ? 

"  Where  are  the  glad  and  artless  smiles, 
Like  clustering  hollies,  seen  afar 

At  eve  along  the  o'ershaded  aisles, 
With  the  first  twilight  star  ?  " 

Spare,  gracious  Saviour,  me  and  mine  : 
Our  tardy  vows  in  mercy  hear, 

While  on  our  watch  the  cold  skies  shine 
Of  the  departing  year. 

Ere  we  again  that  glimmering  view, 
Cleansed  be  our  hearts  and  lowly  laid ; 

The  unfruitful  plant  do  thou  renew, 
And  all  beneath  its  shade. 

By  winter  frosts  and  summer  heats, 
By  prunings  sharp  and  waterings  mild, 

Keen  airs  of  Lent,  and  Easter  sweets, 
Tame  thou  the  sour  and  wild. 

And  dare  we  ask  for  one  year  more  ? 
Yea,  there  is  hope :  One  waits  on  high 


Christmas  Eve.  275 

To  tell  our  contrite  yearnings  o'er, 
And  each  adoring  sigh. 

If  He  in  Heaven  repeat  our  vow, 

We  copying  here  his  pure,  dread  will, — 

Oh,  dream  of  joy  !  —  the  withered  bough 
May  blush  with  fruitage  still. 


NEW  YEAR'S  EVE. 

Ring  out,  wild  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 
The  flying  cloud,  the  frosty  light ; 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 

Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  him  die. 

Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new ; 
Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow : 
The'year  is  going,  let  him  go ; 

Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

Ring  out  the  grief  that  saps  the  mind, 
For  those  that  here  we  see  no  more  ; 
Ring  out  the  feud  of  rich  and  poor, 

Ring  in  redress  to  all  mankind. 

Ring  out  a  slowly  dying  cause, 

And  ancient  forms  of  party  strife ; 
Ring  in  the  nobler  modes  of  life, 

With  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws. 


New  Year's  Eve.  "277 

Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood, 
The  civic  slander  and  the  spite  ; 
Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 

Ring  in  the  common  love  of  good. 

Ring  out  old  shapes  of  foul  disease, 
Ring  out  the  narrowing  lust  of  gold ; 
Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old, 

Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 

Ring  in  the  valiant  man  and  free, 
The  larger  heart,  the  kindlier  hand  ; 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land, 

Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be. 


IN  THE  WORLD  YE  SHALL  HAVE  TRIBULATION:  BUT  BE 
OF    GOOD    CHEER;    I   HAVE   OVERCOME   THE   WORLD. 

WHATSOEVER  IS  BORN  OF  GOD  OVERCOMETH  THE  WORLD. 

HE  THAT  OVERCOMETH  SHALL  INHERIT  ALL  THINGS,  AND 
I  WILL   BE   HIS    GOD,    AND    HE   SHALL   BE   MY    SON. 

WHOSOEVER  SHALL  DO  THE  WILL  OF  MY  FATHER  WHICH 
IS  IN  HEAVEN,  THE  SAME  IS  MY  BROTHER,  AND  SISTER, 
AND   MOTHER. 

BELOVED,  NOW  ARE  WE  THE  SONS  OF  GOD!  AND  IT  DOTH 
NOT  YET  APPEAR  WHAT  WE  SHALL  BE,  BUT  WE  KNOW 
THAT   WHEN  HE   SHALL  APPEAR  WE   SHALL    BE    LIKE    HIM. 

WHEREBY  ARE  GIVEN  UNTO  US  EXCEEDING  GREAT  AND 
PRECIOUS  PROMISES,  THAT  BY  THESE  YE  MIGHT  BE  PAR- 
TAKERS  OF   THE   DIVINE   NATURE. 

TRIBULATION  WORKETH  PATIENCE;  AND  PATIENCE  EX- 
PERIENCE;   AND    EXPERIENCE   HOPE. 

THE  GOD  OF  HOPE  FILL  YOU  WITH  ALL  JOY  AND  PEACE 
IN  BELIEVING,   THAT   YE   MAY  ABOUND   IN  HOPE. 

I  COUNT  ALL  THINGS  BUT  LOSS  IF  BY  ANY  MEANS  I 
MIGHT   ATTAIN  UNTO  THE   RESURRECTION   OF    THE   DEAD. 

GOD  SHALL  WIPE  AWAY  ALL  TEARS  FROM  THEIR  EYES; 
THERE  SHALL  BE  NO  MORE  DEATH,  NEITHER  SORROW,  NOR 
CRYING,    NEITHER   SHALL   THERE   BE   ANY    MORE   PAIN. 

WHEREFORE  LET  THEM  THAT  SUFFER  ACCORDING  TO 
THE  WILL  OF  GOD  COMMIT  THE  KEEPING  OF  THEIR  SOULS 
TO   HIM,   IN   WELL-DOING,   AS   UNTO  A   FAITHFUL    CREATOR. 

BLESSED  BE  GOD,  EVEN  THE  FATHER  OF  OUR  LORD 
JESUS  CHRIST,  THE  FATHER  OF  MERCIES,  AND  THE  GOD 
OF   ALL   COMFORT. 


CONTENTS. 


Asterisks  signify  that  the  Poems  so  marked  are  not  given  complete. 

PAGE 

Evil Milnes 5 

The  Two  Voices A.  Tennyson 7 

Life  shall  live  for  evermore A.  Tennyson 30 

Evil  shall  end  in  Good A.  Tennyson 32 

♦Oppositions  of  Science A.  Tennyson 36 

Through  a  Glass  darkly Clough 37 

A  World  without  God Sterling 40 

♦For  Faith  and  Reverence A.  Tennyson 43 

♦Christ  in  the  World Sterling 45 

♦Plato  and  Christ Sterling 47 

On  a  Life  misspent  in  Vanity  and 

Passion Petrarch 49 

Sin Herbert 50 

For  Forgiveness Donne 51 

Enter  not  into  Judgment,  0  Lord.  Trench 52 

♦Discipline Herbert 53 

Dies  Irse, Thomas  de  Celano. ...  54 

Dies  Ira?,  translated  by Trench 55 

Under  the  Cross W.  C  R 60 

Not   This.      From    Elegiac  Poems,   through  Fosbery's 

Jly.is  and  Poems 62 

Christ's  Cu| S.   Wilberforce 64 

Chastening S.   WtUterforct 65 

Pilgrimage Herbert 66 

Pilgrimage Trench 68 


280  Contents. 

PAGE 

The  Way  is  Short E.  B.  Browning 69 

The  Angel  of  Patience Whittier 70 

Via  Crucis  Via  Lucis.     Kosegar- 

ten,  translated  by C.  T.  Brooks 72 

Ilaflei    Maflos,    (scattered   stanzas 

from  A  Vision  of  Poets) E.  B.  Browning 75 

Adversa  Mundi  Tolera Thomas  a  Kempis. ...  76 

Endure  the  World's  rude  Buffet- 
ings:  the  foregoing,  trans- 
lated by C.  T.  Brooks 77 

*A  City  that  hath  Foundations Christina  Rossetti 80 

"  Rejoice  Evermore  " Trench 82 

*To  Sorrow Milnes 85 

Sad  and  Sweet Aubrey  de  Vere 87 

*Love  and  Discipline Vaughan 88 

They  are  all  gone Vaughan 89 

Vanished Wither 92 

*De  Profundis E.  B.  Browning 93 

The  Two  Angels Longfellow 96 

Resignation Longfellow 99 

The  Alpine  Sheep Maria  Lowell 102 

Dear  Friend,  far  off,  my  lost  Desire.  A  Tennyson 105 

The  Past Bryant 107 

Footsteps  of  Angels Longfellow 110 

An  Angel  in  the  House Leigh  Hunt 112 

Be  near  me  when  my  light  is  low-4.  Tennyson 113 

Do  we  indeed  desire  the  dead. . .  .A.  Tennyson 114 

*In  health,  O  Lord,  and  prosperous  days.     Anonymous. 

From  Fosbery's  Hymns  and  Poems 115 

The  Sick  Room.     Anonymous.     From  Fosbery's  Hymrs 

and  Poems 116 

Wholesome  Memories  of  Pain.     From  Elegiac  Poems, 

.  through  Fosbery's  Hymns  and  Poems 118 

The  Day  of  Death Trench 120 

The  Cloud  on  the  Way Bryant 123 


Contents.  281 

PAGE 

The  Border-Lands.  From  The  Dove  on  the  Cross,  through 

Fosbcry's  Hymns  and  Poems 127 

♦The  True  Light.    (From  The  Sex- 
tons Daughter) Sterling 130 

Dust  to  Dust Trench 131 

The  Illusion  of  Life Blanco  White 132 

The  Future  Life Bryant 133 

The  Return  of  Youth Bryant 335 

Submission JRoscoe 138 

♦Work Whittier 139 

Work E.  B.  Browning  .  . .  ;  .   141 

Employment Herbert 142 

The  same  Dull  Task  and  Weary 

Way Coventry  Patmore.  . . .   144 

♦Imperfection  of  Human    Sympa- 
thy   Keble 146 

Divine  Order Bonar 148 

Struggle  not  with  thy  Life Frances  Anne  Kemble  150 

♦Still  Hope,  Still  Act (From 

The  Sexton  s  Daughter) Sterling 151 

Hope  for  the  Hopeless Sterling 153 

Tu  ne  qutesieris Herbert 156 

Anticipation Emily  Bronie 157 

Onward  into  Light Trench 160 

Carpe  Diem Trench 161 

Against  Despondency.     From  Elegiac  Poems,  through 

Fosberys  Hymns  and  Poems 162 

Against  Foreboding Trench 164 

Vain  Hopes  and  Fears Trench 165 

They  Serve  who  Stand  and  Wait. Milton 167 

For  God's  sake.    (The  Elixir).  . .  . Herbert 168 

Thou  cam'st  not  to  thy  place  by 

accident Trench 170 

♦Adequacy E.  B.  Browning 171 

My  Times  are  in  Thy  Hand A.  L.  Waring 172 


282  Contents. 

PAGE 

The  Better  Part.     (To  a  Virtuous 

Young  Lady) Milton 175 

Fame.     Hymns  of  the  Ages,  Sec- 
ond Series :  there  ascribed  to  Schiller 176 

*Truth Chaucer,  recast  by  Milnes 178 

Duty Wordsworth 179 

Peace Alford 182 

The  Cloister M.  F.  C. 183 

The  Worth  of  Hours Milnes 184 

The  Ingratitude  of  the  Happy. . .  Trench 186 

Were  this  World  only  made  for 

Me Princess  Amelia 187 

Love's  Self-Reproach Trench 188 

Cast  thy  Bread  on  the  Waters. . . .  Barton 190 

Example Keble 191 

Absence Frances  Anne  Kemble  192 

Disappointed  Affection Coventry  Patmore 194 

A  Valediction E.  B.  Browning 196 

Friends  parted  by  Opinion Clough 199 

The  Ministry  of  Love.     B.  N.,  al- 
tered by Southey 201 

The  Kingdom  of  God Trench 203 

My  Psalm Whittier 205 

*  Andrew  Rykman's  Prayer Whittier 208 

Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus.  Robert  II,  King  of  France 216 

King  Robert's   Hymn:   the  fore- 
going, translated  by.. F.  H.  Hedge 217 

For  Inspiration:  Sonnet  of Michael  Angelo 220 

For    Inspiration:    the    foregoing, 

translated  by Wordsworth 221 

For  Inspiration A.  Tennyson 222 

*Self-Devotion  and  Resignation.  ..Keble 223 

*New  Creation Whytehead 225 

For  Grace Herbert 228 

*For  Entire  Devotion F.  D.  Huntington 230 


Contents.  283 

PAQB 

Watch,  Pray,  and  Work Frederiha  Bremer  . .  233 

Em'  teste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott Martin  Luther 234 

A  Mighty  Fortress  is  our  God:  the 

foregoing,  translated  by F.  H.  Hedge 235 

•Morgenlied Baron  von  Canitz.  . . .   238 

•Morning  Hymn:  the  foregoing,  translated   in  Arnold's 

Sermons  on  Christian  Life 239 

Morgenlied Klopstock 24-4 

Morning    Hymn:    the    foregoing, 

translated  by Nind 245 

•Evening  Hymn Keble 248 

Abide  with  me Lyte 249 

Emmaus M.  F.  C 251 

Evening  Hymn Sir  Thomas  Browne . .  252 

•Sleep E.  B.  Browning 254 

•Praises  for  this  World E.  B.  Browning 258 

•Foregleams  of  a  Heavenly  Coun- 
try.    (From    Tfie  Monk  and 

Bird ) Trench 259 

*On  a  Beautiful  Day Sterling 261 

Short -Lived  Flowers.      (Life) Herbert 264 

Dead  Leaves.     (Mortality) D.  M.  Muloch 265 

Nightly  Skies Sterling 267 

At  a  Solemn  Music Milton 269 

A  Thanksgiving Howells 271 

Christinas,  Easter,  and  Pentecost. Falk 272 

•Christmas  Eve Keble ,. .  .  273 

*Xew  Year's  Eve A.  Tennyson 276 


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